Road to Nowhere
by kwater
Summary: Research leads the Winchesters to a deserted highway where people have been dissapearing. Along the way they find themselves trapped and in danger with little choice but to wait out the night. This story is set in the first season, after Faith. Also,
1. Chapter 1

**Story Notes:**

Alright people, here we go again. This story is dedicated to two wonderful people that I had the pleasure of spending one crazy week with. To Maggie, honey, I'd get lost with you anytime, and to Fredo, mi popout es su popout, okay so I know it's spanish but French is frickin' hard. Enjoy ladies ;)

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

Hey a big thanks goes to Bullet for her quick beta and encouragment - ;)

888

Earl set the handbrake in place and eased back in his seat, grateful that the parking lot was pretty much deserted. All he wanted right now was some hot coffee, followed up by a good meal. Then he planned on getting back on the road. He had miles to go before he could allow himself an honest rest. For now he'd have to make do with a pit stop.

As he threw open the door of his Mack truck and climbed down out of the high cab, he breathed deep, enjoying the warm, fragrant spring night. The trip so far had been a pleasant one, no rain, mild weather, and minimal traffic. Well, minimal for the eastern corridor, he amended to himself.

Ready for a jolt of caffeine, he set off for the bright lights of the Panhandle Restaurant. The low sprawling building was actually a combination, eatery and store. It boasted gas pumps out front and a parking lot large enough to accommodate even the biggest of tractor trailers. Earl had been here many times and had always found the location to be handy, the service to be good, and the food to be some of the best in the area.

At the entrance of the mini-mart, he couldn't help but look back and swell with pride for the big machine he'd just left. He had owned the sleeper cab for over seven months now, but the sight of the gleaming blue paint twinkling in the moonlight still caused him to drool like a dog with a bone.

A familiar voice greeted him as he entered the brightly lit mini-mart that made up the larger half of the truck stop.

"Earl, it's been too damn long," The buxom redhead's grin was bright as she called out her greeting.

"Hey there Flo," he replied, his face creasing into his own genuine smile. "I've been out west a lot lately. I just began working the east coast again. I couldn't pass up stopping by for a bit of Carl's coconut crème pie."

The older woman tossed Earl a wink and gestured toward the large doorway that led to the restaurant. "He made a couple fresh this morning, there should be a piece or two left."

"Sounds good, Darlin', I'll catch up with you before I leave," Earl said tipping the black cap on his head toward the older woman.

"I'll hold you to it, honey," she replied before turning back to the magazine she held in her hand.

He'd been stopping at this rest stop for over fifteen years now, and Flo had been a fixture behind that low counter for most of that time. As anyone that made a living traveling the highways could tell you, when you came across a place with good food and even better people you made every effort to get back to it. There were simply too many roadside grab shacks that were little more than dumps to pass up on the few good places.

Anxious for a hot coffee, Earl crossed the open foyer, his gaze fixed on the opening of the restaurant. The diner was owned and operated by Carl and his wife Connie, the two of them were fixtures of the Panhandle. Despite the fact that they could probably retire in style at this point, they still worked the restaurant seven days a week.

Already anticipating the chicken fried steak he was planning on ordering, Earl never heard the step behind him. In fact, he had no clue anything was amiss until an arm slipped around his throat, drawing him back against a solid chest. Quicker than he could react, a sharp pain slipped across his throat. The last thing he registered, before he slipped into darkness with a last gurgling breath, was the slightly exotic smell of freshly baked coconut crème pie.

888

"How's your West Wing marathon going?" Karen called back as she glanced in her rear view mirror at the small glowing square that hung from the ceiling of her mini-van.

Frannie edged forward a big grin on her face as she replied, "I love this van. Joshua Lyman looks good even on a tiny screen."

From the passenger seat, Melanie leaned back, trying to see the screen that faced the back seat. It was only a moment before she sat back up, closing her eyes tight. "Ugh, I don't know how you can watch TV in the car."

Out of the corner of her eye, Karen watched as her long-time friend swallowed hard. Quickly she focused her gaze back on the dark, deserted road before her. "If you're gonna puke, you gotta tell me now, Mel. I'm a sympathy vomiter, I swear, if you throw-up in my car I'm gonna have to abandon it. I'd have to just leave it on the side of the road and walk away."

Frannie leaned forward from the back seat and added her opinion, "That's a smell that just doesn't come out. You can scrub all you want, but the first hot day it'll just—"

"I'm not gonna throw-up. At least I won't as long as you guys stop talking about it," Mel replied, exasperation tingeing her words as she glared at the grinning blond.

Confident that a change in subject was due, Karen gazed fondly at the small rectangular box that was perched upon the dashboard of her mini-van. Her GPS, nicknamed 'Lola' indicated that they would make their destination with plenty of time to spare. "We're doing good, girls, we should have no problem making it to Barb's for breakfast."

"So, who's betting Barb's ghost hunters have their own theme song?" Frannie asked with a laugh, referring to the house party they were on their way to.

Two weeks ago they'd all received e-mails from Barbara, a friend from college, inviting them to her house in upstate New York for a long weekend. According to the invite, a team of paranormal investigators was going to do a search on her place to see if there were any signs of ghosts in the hundred-year-old home.

"Oh, god, do you think they will. How funny would that be," Karen joked, unable to imagine just what would lead people to believe that ghosts really existed.

"Yuck it up, you two, but it's actually going to be really cool. Plus, these guys are going to try and prove there are no ghosts at Barb's," Melanie defended. Karen knew that unlike Frannie and herself, Melanie honestly believed in ghosts, or at least she was open to the possibility.

Though Karen was far from a believer in the supernatural, she'd been thrilled at the chance to hit the road with her friends. The six-hour road trip to Barbara's was well worth the effort in order to have an official 'girls' weekend.

In total there would be six women descending on Barb's place. They had all attended college together, and while in school, they'd formed a tight knit group that had survived long after the ink on their diplomas had dried. After graduation, each of them had gone their separate ways, spreading out across the country to pursue careers and family. Gwen and Laura, the other two ladies attending would be meeting up in Ohio and would drive on to Barb's place together.

Since they had graduated, the six of them had managed to meet up more often than not. Especially over the last couple years when there'd been a rash of marriages. The internet and e-mail had made it easy to keep up the long distance relationships, ensuring that they were even closer to each other than when they'd spent every day in each other's pockets.

Karen, Frannie and Mel had all settled within a couple of hours from each other, Karen being the center point for each of the other girls. Her location had made her the natural choice of driver for this little expedition, and really she couldn't say that she minded a bit. As a mother of three overly rambunctious kids, she had welcomed the chance for a break from the every day monotony of her life. Striking out with her girlfriends, on a trip guaranteed to be filled with laughter and fun, was something she wouldn't have missed for anything.

Content for the moment to just cruise, Karen upped her speed a bit confident that there was no one else on the highway but her. Even the threat of a ticket wasn't enough to back her speed down, after all, it'd been a good long while since she'd been pulled over, her record could withstand a couple points.

"Hey, Kar?"

"Yeah," Karen asked glancing over at Melanie not liking the hesitation in her tone. She'd only been half-way kidding when she'd said she didn't do well with vomiting.

"I have to pee," the redhead blurted.

Karen rolled her eyes and ground out, "What happened to the 'we're not stopping every ten minutes' speech Mel. I warned you."

"I know," Melanie groused, "but I can't help it. Plus," she added in a weaker voice, "I think I'd better pick up some Dramamine. I don't feel so hot."

Frannie chimed up from the backseat, "Mel, this is the second stop since we got on the road. At the rate we're going, we're never gonna make it to Barb's on time."

"There's no one on the road but us and Karen's going super-sonic. I think we can spare five minutes so I can pee. I swear it'll be the last time."

"I'm telling ya, we keep stopping five minutes so Miss "I've got a bladder the size of walnut' can pee, we're going to end up hitting rush hour traffic just as we reach Barbara's place," Karen grumbled even as she began scouring the dark highway for some sign of civilization.

Despite her complaining, Karen really didn't mind the extra pit stops. After all, they were on an adventure and what good is exploring if you didn't stop to check things out every now and again. It was one of the reasons she'd insisted on getting such an early start on their trip.

She only wished that what she was exploring was something a little more interesting than the inside of a truck-stop bathroom. "Start looking for somewhere to stop, Mel, or else ask Lola."

Mel leaned back with a little sigh and said, "I saw a sign a few miles back, it was for someplace called the Panhandle. We can stop there."

"The Panhandle, huh, sounds like a happening place," Frannie said as she sat back to resume her show.

Karen pushed the accelerator down a bit more and concentrated on finding Mel her pit stop. She wanted to be in and out and back on the road again before the engine had a chance to cool.

888

"Huh, that's weird?" Karen said, as she eased off the accelerator and guided the van onto the off ramp.

"What's up?" Frannie asked as she leaned forward once more.

Just then they all heard a chime and Lola spoke, "Off route, recalculating."

"She's bound to re-calculate, as far as she's concerned we just made a wrong turn," Mel added as she gazed at the small screen.

Karen shook her dark head and frowned as she slowed even more, adjusting her speed for the sharp curve of the ramp. "It's not that, when I took the exit it looked as if we were driving through a field."

Again, Lola's smooth computer generated voice said, "Off route, re-calculating."

A glance toward the GPS, showed that it was indeed trying to pick up their current location. The arrow that indicated the van, was currently making its way through what looked like uncharted land, rather than the road they were on.

"Huh, that is weird. Maybe this roadway's new, Kar, you did say your software is a bit out of date."

Frannie's solid explanation helped to set Karen's mind at ease. Of course that was what was wrong, her mapping software wasn't aware that an exit had been added to the highway.

"Flip her off for now, Mel, we'll turn her back on when we leave."

Mel reached forward and flipped off the GPS, as Karen turned off the TV. They had made it to the end of the ramp and now had no choice but to go right.

"Huh—"

"If you say that's weird, I'm gonna freak out. What now?" Frannie said with a laugh.

"Just that sign back there, it said we could go left and listed a bunch of hotels, or right to the Panhandle, only it looks to me as if we have no choice, it's the Panhandle or nothing."

"What's the difference, it's the truck stop we want anyway," Mel asked as she pointed toward the large neon sign they were now approaching.

The sight of the sign seemed to ease some of the tension that had gripped Karen. Standing at over a hundred feet high, it had to be clearly visible to the surrounding area. The sign featured a large iron skillet complete with two sunny-side up eggs and a couple of strips of bacon.

"This is it?" Melanie asked her question bringing Karen's attention back to the roadway.

Confident that they were the only one's around, Karen slowed to a near halt as the three girls stared up at the entrance to the truck stop. Two bright halogen lights lit up the night, making shadows out of the scrubby terrain and giant boulders. There was a steep, two-lane entrance that disappeared up and out of sight, the road that led to the Panhandle looked as if it had been carved through the side of a mountain.

"Up we go," Karen said as she nosed the car up the entrance.

As the car pulled up the hill, Karen's unease began to grow. They really seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. At last, as they neared the top, the glow of the parking lights began to welcome them, making her feel at least a little safer.

"We stick together, you got me," she said, in a tone that was not to be ignored. "Truck stops are usually okay, but, this one looks nearly deserted and we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Yes, Mom," Mel and Frannie answered in unison.

Karen didn't rise to the bait, she didn't care if they teased her about being overly protective, she only cared that one of them wasn't snatched by an ax murderer. "You can 'yes mom' me all you want just make sure you stick close."

As Karen parked, she noticed only a few vehicles in the lot. One of which was an eye-catching big-rig painted electric blue. "Shall we," she called to her friends as she climbed out of the van.

888

_"…it seems to me…we're on the road to nowhere," _Dean sang putting emphasis on the lines road to nowhere.

"Turn it down, Dean, I get the point," Sam snapped as he once again aimed his flashlight at the map on his lap.

Dean leaned forward, cutting off Ozzy just before the refrain and said, "I just figured it was appropriate given the fact that we're traveled the length of this road three times and have yet to find anything."

"It's here, I know it is."

One glance at his brother's pitiful expression had Dean regretting his harshness. The last few weeks had been hard ones, especially for Sam. His nightmares had reached epic proportions and ever since Dean's brush with death he had a feeling he was a nightly fixture in most of them.

"Okay, give it to me again. Why are we driving in circles?" Dean's actions fit his words as he took the exit that Sam indicated and then promptly got back on the roadway going north bound this time.

Sam flipped open the notepad in his hand and began reading, "Okay, fourteen people have disappeared on this stretch of road over the last ten years, always on the night of May 18th."

"How many each year?" Dean questioned as he kept his gaze on the road.

"It alters every year. Last year it was three, the year before it was only one. There's even been years when no one goes missing."

"So, what? You thinking something's grabbing them?"

Sam hesitated, his unease clear. "This stretch of highway came up clear. No major fatalities, well excluding the missing, and as you've seen there are no exits between mile markers 16 and 40."

Dean blew out a breath at his brother's lack of hard evidence. "So basically, we're trolling this highway hoping that whatever snatched the others'll give us a go."

Sam's shame-faced grin made it clear that Dean's assessment wasn't far off the mark.

"Alright, then, so long as we're clear," Dean muttered as he focused once more on the road ahead.

888

"It's nearly two a.m., Sam, any clue when your boogeyman's gonna strike?" Dean asked as he made his way north on route eighty-six once again.

"I'm thinking it's a bust," Sam said as he bit his fingernails, worrying the nails to the quick.

Uneasy with the idea of giving up, Dean made a decision. "We'll keep going. Not like we have anywhere else to be."

"Dean, stop!" Sam shouted the command sounding eerily like their dad.

Acting out of instinct, Dean slammed on the breaks, thankful that there was no one else on the deserted stretch of highway.

"Go back, Go back," Sam said as he twisted on his seat to see behind them.

"Crap, Sam, you wanna give me a bit more notice next time you decide you need me to stop," Dean snapped as he glanced out the rear window and backed the big, black car up.

"Sorry, but I saw…well, look," he said as he pointed out his window.

"Well, I'll be damned," Dean murmured as he stared at the sign lit up by the Impala's headlights.

"Panhandle Restaurant, gas and mini-mart, three miles," Sam read.

"We've been all over this road at least sixty times. That sign wasn't there before."

Sam glanced toward his brother with a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders. "It's here now."

Dean put the car in gear and started forward. "I guess we're heading for the Panhandle, best truck stop in the tri-state."


	2. Chapter 2

888

"Welcome, ladies," a full-figured redheaded woman called out as Karen, Melanie and Frannie entered the store.

Karen shot the woman a grin, as Mel and Frannie called out hello. The clerk's smile was warm and she seemed genuinely happy to have some customers despite the late hour.

"You young things, looking for anything special or just window shopping?" she asked as she set aside the magazine she'd been holding.

"Don't know about the 'young things' part," Mel said with a laugh, "but I'm looking for some Dramamine."

"Hell, honey, if you're under thirty-five you're a 'young thing' in my book," the woman said with a wink. "Name's Flo, and this here store is my place."

Flo turned to the rack behind her and picked up a small cylindrical tube. "Stuff works like a charm, darlin', and you won't end up dragging ass through all the fun," Flo said as she handed the medicine to Mel. "You ladies road-tripping?"

Frannie smiled as she picked up a couple of Take-Five candy bars. "Yup, girl's weekend."

"Ah, ain't that grand, just you girls, no men to get in the way. At least not unless you want 'em too," Flo said with a chuckle. "Well take your time and look around. If'n don't find what you want, just ask. I got a little bit of a lot of different things."

"Thanks," said Karen, and with a grin they began scouring the shelves.

The store obviously catered to those that made travel their living. Flo sold everything from food, to a wide range of first aid supplies, to movies, music, clothes, mostly jeans, flannels and tee-shirts with busty ladies on them, and even small appliances made to work off of a battery. Along the far wall there was a sign pointing toward the restrooms were located, and even a sign indicating there were showers available.

The shop had two exits, the glass doors that led to the parking lot and another opening that led deeper into the building. It was toward the second exit that the signs pointed indicating the bathrooms and restaurant.

"I finally found something your van doesn't have, Kar," Frannie said with a laugh.

"If my van doesn't have it then I don't need it," Karen replied as she moved toward the big plate glass window where Fran stood.

As she reached her friends side, her gaze was drawn to a truck just now pulling into the big lot. The tractor-trailer was electric blue, a twin in every way to the rig she'd seen earlier.

"How about a toaster?"

Karen focused on Frannie's grinning face and smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. "Then we could make pop-tarts."

"Yup, we'd be all set."

Just then, Karen noticed that except for her, Frannie and Flo the room was empty. "Where'd Mel go?" she asked as she glanced around the store.

A slight frown marred Frannie's features as she set down the candy bars she'd been holding and headed toward the back of the shop. More irritated than angry, Karen followed. As she did she heard a chime, announcing the arrival of someone else.

As she followed Fran out of the shop and toward the woman's room, she heard Flo happily greet someone named Earl.

"Mel?" Frannie called as they entered. "You're scaring our Italian Mama, she thinks the boogeyman's gotcha."

Karen whacked Frannie's arm and said, "I'm not that bad, besides, you know bad things happen everyday..." Karen's words trailed off as she realized that Melanie had yet to answer.

This time Frannie's voice held no humor as the slim blond called out, "Mel?"

Frannie and Karen exchanged worried glances. The room they were in simply wasn't that big. Typical of public restrooms, one wall held a line of white porcelain sinks and the other a row of grey cubicles housing the toilets. At the end there seemed to be an opening of some kind to the left.

"Melanie," Karen snapped, not finding her friend's joke at all funny. She then bent low glancing under each stall looking for a pair of familiar sneakers.

A low moaning sound caught both women's attention. The sound was slightly muffled and obviously not coming from the row of stalls. Karen immediately headed for the opening she'd glimpsed at the end of the room, there she found a short hallway with a sign proclaiming 'Women's Showers'. "Fran," she called as she started down the hall.

The tiny hallway hooked left, opening up into another long room. Covered in blue tile, the shower room had a row of cubicles running along each wall and a bank of sinks at the far end. It was there, in the center of the room that they found Melanie.

"Oh...my...god!" Karen exclaimed as she dropped to her knees beside her friend.

888

"Huh, well this is a welcoming place," Dean said as he pointed the Impala up the steep slope. The entrance to the Panhandle seemed to be carved out of stone.

"Just keep going, whatever's going on has to have something to do with this place. That road did not exist an hour ago."

"Any ideas?" Dean asked as they pulled into the parking lot.

"None," Sam said as he nodded toward a beautiful blue rig that was parked in the lot. Other than the truck there were few cars to be seen. "Pretty quiet night."

"Yeah, well it's two in the morning, not too many people looking for a meal at this time of night," Dean snorted.

Uneasy about the truck stop, Dean opted to park the Impala well away from the building. Both he and Sam climbed out of the car and moved toward the rear. As he did a faint chill began a slow crawl up his spine alerting him to a danger not yet seen. "Get your 'A' game on, Sammy, something's not right about this place."

Not willing to take any chances with an unknown quantity, Dean lifted the trunk and propped the false bottom open with a shotgun. He then lifted out a duffle bag and began filling it.

His brother stood by his side, a faint grin on his face as he watched Dean fill the bag with every item imaginable. Sam remained quiet until he saw Dean pick up the small box they kept spell ingredients in.

"I'm thinking we can rule out witches, Dean."

Dean glanced at the box in his hand and reluctantly set it back down. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said his feeling of unease growing larger by the minute, "but, if we end up love slaves to some coven, you know I'm totally gonna say I told you so."

"I would expect nothing less," Sam said as he accepted the sawed-off shotgun Dean handed him. As his brother slammed the trunk shut, Sam tucked the weapon beneath his coat as best he could. "Ready?"

"Let's do it," Dean said as he concealed his own gun.

Both men approached the low building at a slow walk, despite their languid pace they moved with the easy grace of a predator stalking its prey. Dean the shorter of the two, adjusted his bow-legged stride to match his brother's, ensuring that Sam didn't reach the entrance first. If something was going to go down, Dean would be damned before he'd let his kid brother go in ahead of him.

888

"Place looks fine," Sam said as they neared the glass doors.

"Seems so," Dean replied.

Sam had little doubt that things were far from fine, and his brother's tense frame suggested he felt the same way. Careful to keep his gun concealed, Sam waited as Dean eased open the door and entered the store. As he followed he found he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the bright overhead fluorescent lights.

"Welcome, boys," a busty redheaded woman called out as the brothers entered the store.

Sam sent the woman a wary smile, and Dean nodded. The older woman seemed at ease, her smile genuine.

"You lads, looking for anything special or just window shopping?" she asked as she set aside the magazine she'd been holding.

"Just stretching our legs, and looking for some coffee," Dean replied as he carefully eyed their surroundings.

"Coffee's hot and strong. You two just go on and help yourselves," the woman said with a wink. "Name's Flo, and this here is my place."

Flo gestured toward the opening at the back of the store. "If you're looking for a bite to eat, give the Panhandle a go, there's no better pie for miles around. You boys road-tripping?"

Dean smiled and eased a bit to his left, the better to keep an eye on the parking lot. "Yup, doing a bit of traveling."

"Ah, ain't that grand. Well, take your time and look around. If'n you don't find what you want just ask. I got a little bit of a lot of different things."

Sam nodded and gazed about the room once again. He'd yet to see anything that looked out of place, in fact, he was now doubting that the Panhandle had anything to do with the missing people.

"Hey, Sam,"

The tension in Dean's voice indicated he'd seen something that Sam had missed. Turning to face his brother, Sam moved toward him, casting a glance back toward the clerk to make sure she wasn't paying any attention.

"What's up?"

Dean nodded toward the parking lot that was clearly visible through the large front window of the store. "Notice the truck?"

Sam nodded, unsure of where Dean was going with his line of reasoning. They had both noticed the truck when they'd crossed the lot earlier. "Yeah, it's been there."

With a grimace, Dean shook his head and gestured toward the clerk. "I was keeping watch while talking with the little lady. That truck disappeared about four minutes after we entered the building. Then about five minutes ago, it pulls back up the drive and parks in that same place."

With a frown, Sam clarified, "You mean he pulled out and then pulled back in."

"No," Dean said with conviction. "I mean, I watched it disappear only to watch it drive back into the lot five minutes later."

"What do you mean disappear I-"

Sam's words were cut off by the sound of the bell announcing a customer had entered. Flo looked up and beamed at the newest arrival. The Winchester's listened as she welcomed the man that entered.

"Earl, it's been too damn long," Flo called as Earl eased into the brightly lit mini-market that made up half of the truck stop.

The older man was probably on the far side of fifty. He wore a black baseball cap with the Mack truck bulldog on it and he was wearing a grey flannel shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. There seemed to be nothing threatening in his manner and Flo obviously considered him a friend.

Dean on the other hand was taking no chances, he'd pulled the shotgun from his coat and was holding it low alongside his leg. Sam rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the two people at the front of the store.

"Hey there Flo," he replied, his face creasing into his own genuine smile. "I've been out west a lot lately. I just began working the east coast again. I couldn't pass up stopping by for a bit of Carl's coconut crème pie."

The buxom red-head tossed Earl a wink and gestured toward the large doorway that led to the restaurant. "He made a couple fresh this morning, there should be a piece or two left."

"Sounds good, Darlin', I'll catch up with you before I leave," Earl said tipping the black cap on his head toward the older woman.

"I'll hold you to it, honey," she replied before turning back to the magazine she held in her hand.

As Earl left the store, heading, apparently, for the restaurant, Sam shook his head in frustration. "Got any idea what's going on?"

"No, frickin' clue. You figure we should follow good ol' Earl?"

Sam shrugged and made an 'after you' gesture. Dean took the lead, not bothering to conceal his shotgun. It was obvious his older brother was preparing for the worse, and Sam had to admit, that if his own instincts were any indication then he was right to be worried.

**Chapter End Notes:**

'K, you know the drill if you enjoyed let me know, if you didn't well, hell, drop me a line and let me know why. Catch you all later - ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

Thanks to all for the wonderful response, hopefully, you'll continue to enjoy!! A big thanks to Fredo for her encouragement and Louy for the beta.

**Chapter 3**

As Karen dropped down beside their friend, Frannie couldn't help but blanch. There on the floor, just beyond Mel was a body. It was a woman, her long dark hair spread out over what was once blue tile flooring. She lay in a pool of her own blood, her brown eyes wide and staring, her throat had been slit from ear to ear. A spray of blood graced one wall, covering even the hand dryer in a thin layer of red. The blood had dripped down the wall, leaving streaks of crimson, and was pooling on the floor.

Without thought, Fran, slipped from the shower area and headed for the bathroom. She quickly did a once over checking every stall before heading for the door leading out. Once there she flipped the dead bolt ensuring that the door couldn't be opened from the outside.

Even once she'd done this she couldn't help but jump a mile at every little noise as she rejoined her friends. Karen had wrapped her arms firmly around Mel as she worked to console the heavily weeping woman.

"Sh…it's okay, come on, Melanie, you're okay. We're here now," Karen repeated her voice steady despite the wide-eyed way she kept glancing toward the floor surrounding them.

At last, Mel's breathing eased and she seemed to become aware of where she was. Karen, obviously thankful to have gotten through to the pale-faced woman, grasped her arm and tugged, drawing Melanie with her.

Though Frannie didn't want to upset her, she couldn't help but ask, "What the hell happened, Mel?"

Melanie took a deep breath and seemed to steady a bit as she gained her feet. Then her gaze trailed over the floor and she was gone in a flash. The sound of her retreat, ended in what was obviously the bang of a stall door, and was then followed by a retching noise.

The sound had Karen paling and for a moment, Fran fought down the wild urge to laugh. Her friend was strong enough to have faced a dead body in order to comfort Mel, but the sound of someone retching in what was basically another room was going to be her undoing.

"You okay?" she whispered, unsure of why she hesitated to speak up. Frannie's gaze dipped to the floor before she wrenched her eyes away.

Karen reached out and gripped her arm, offering Fran something solid to lean against even though she hadn't realized that she'd wobbled for a moment.

With an audible swallow, Karen asked, "She's dead right? I mean you can't survive something like this."

It was Melanie who answered, her voice sounding as close to normal as it probably ever would, "There's no way she's alive. She would have bled out in minutes."

Karen seemed to take Mel's words at face value, still gripping Fran's arm she turned and walked toward Melanie who had reappeared.

The three of them left the shower area, keeping their eyes resolutely forward. None of them needed a reminder of what was on the blue tile floor just behind them.

"I locked the door," Fran said as they approached the long bank of sinks that lined one wall.

Karen started in surprise but nodded. "Good thinking." She then turned and faced Melanie who stood at one of the white porcelain sinks swishing around a mouthful of water. "Mel, can you tell us?"

Melanie's head dipped forward for a moment and Frannie found herself tensing suddenly afraid their friend was gonna take a nose dive. The moment lasted only a second and then Mel was straightening a look of determination stamped on her face.

"I came in to use the bathroom, but saw the sign for the showers," Mel said with an embarrassed shrug. "I wanted to check them out, I never saw a restroom with showers before."

Karen's grin was faint, but honest nonetheless. "We would have been right there with you."

"Anyway, I peaked in and a girl." Melanie shuddered, the movement shaking her entire body, and nodded toward the opening. "That girl was standing in just a bra and was using one of the hand dryers to dry a shirt. I think…I think she must have spilled something on herself.

Frannie interrupted as a tremor ran through her own body. "She was alive?"

Mel nodded, tears forming behind the dark framed glasses she wore. "Yeah, so anyway, I just nodded to her and came back in here to use the bathroom. I was in that stall," she said pointing to the first stall tucked into the far corner of the room.

"I heard the door open and I almost called out. I mean I came this close," Melanie said holding up her thumb and her forefinger about an inch apart. "I figured it was one of you girls." Here she paused, obviously thinking of what could have been if she had called out.

"But something, I don't know what, told me not to. Instead, I peeked through the crack on the door and saw a man."

"He moved out of my line of vision but I heard his steps," Mel said, her shaking now constant.

Acting on instinct, Fran moved forward flanking Mel on the left. Karen mimicked her movement brushing up against the redhead's right. "We're right here, Mel, go on," Frannie reassured the traumatized woman.

"I heard him rounding the corner, then, nothing. I was afraid to come out, so I pulled up my legs and stayed that way."

"You did the right thing, Mel, you did what any of us would have done," Karen stated firmly, correctly interpreting Melanie's guilt.

"Right, well, when I heard him return I just froze. He never bothered to check and see if anyone was in here, he just walked out the door." Here Mel's voice grew stronger and she slipped both hands under her glasses to wipe the tears that had fallen. "Once I was sure he was gone, I went back into the shower area and found her, lying there. I know I should have run and found someone, but, I…I just couldn't leave her. So I waited, I knew you two would come for me."

Frannie squeezed her friend's arm and reassured her, "Of course we would, and we're here now."

Karen nodded her gaze darting toward the locked door. "Most likely it was someone she knew. That's why he didn't bother checking the rest of the stalls, he was only looking to…hurt her."

That made sense in some twisted sort of way. "Karen's most likely right. There's no reason to believe we're in danger."

Melanie snorted, some of her color returning to her cheeks. "Then why'd you lock the door?"

Fran started guiltily. "I wasn't sure what had happened. I didn't think anyone should come in until we got things straight."

This time a full-throated laugh erupted from Melanie. Obviously shocked by her own outburst she slammed a hand over her mouth. It took a full five minutes for her to gather herself enough to say, "You thought I had something to do with it."

The blush that stole across Frannie's fair face only confirmed Melanie's words. "Well, it's not as if I thought you took a knife to her, I just didn't know what happened."

Instead of being offended, Melanie seemed to size Fran up with a ghost of a grin. "Well at least I know who to call when I have a body to bury."

Feeling better than she had since she entered the bathroom, Fran tipped Mel a wink. "So we should go get someone right? Maybe Flo?

"I dropped my purse by the…by her," Karen said, "I'll be right back. Do not leave this bathroom without me."

"Trust me I don't think I'm going anywhere alone ever again," Mel said shuddering.

Frannie concurred, offering her friend more re-assurances, "I'm not going anywhere, we'll be right here."

Karen nodded and turned heading back down the short hall that led to the showers. She was only out of sight for a moment, when Fran heard her cry, "Holy crap!"

888

Karen couldn't believe the sight before her, with a curse, she stepped forward unable to process just what she was seeing. It was all gone, the blood, the body, it was if they'd never existed, and for one strange moment, Karen actually doubted her own sanity.

At least she did until she heard Frannie and Melanie slam into the room behind her, their cries of fear turning to confusion.

"She's gone, right?" Karen asked still not wholly trusting her own eyes.

"Holy crap," Melanie said, echoing Karen's earlier curse.

"Do you think it was a joke, some kind of twisted game?" Fran asked as she approached the area where the body had been. Regardless of the fact that all was now gone, the blonde seemed reluctant to step on the spot where the woman had laid dead.

"Weird frickin' game," Karen muttered as she picked up her purse. It was right where she'd left it. "I'm about ready to go, how about you two?"

Frannie nodded and began backing out her eyes darting around the echoing blue room. "I'm past ready."

All three turned tail to go, all intent on reaching the safety of the van just as quickly as possible. They were nearing the bathroom exit, Karen in the lead, when the wooden door swung open.

Frannie, Melanie and Karen all skidded to a halt as a young girl with long brown hair and matching brown eyes walked in. The front of her shirt was soaked and she held it away from her body, obviously not wanting the material to touch her skin.

"Nice, right?" she complained as she squeezed by the ladies and headed for the back of the bathroom.

Jaw hanging open, Karen watched her disappear out of sight, her intention obviously to slip the shirt off and dry it under one of the hand dryers.

It wasn't until she was completely out of sight that Karen realized her arm hurt. With a glance at the offending appendage, she realized that Frannie had gripped her tightly. So tightly, in fact that Karen was sure she would have the bruises for months. "Fran, hon, let go."

"Shit, frig, I'm sorry," Frannie said as she pried her fingers off Karen's arm.

"Can't say as I blame ya, we ready to go?"

Fran seemed more than ready as she reached out to grab the door handle.

"Wait, we can't just leave. We saw that woman die. What if it was some kind of omen, she could—"

"Sh…" Karen said suddenly her gaze glued to the door, "someone's coming."

Running on instinct alone, Karen grabbed Fran and Mel and stepped back, her back hitting one of the stall doors knocking it inward. With another jerk she pulled the girls back and into the bathroom stall. So tight was the fit that she feared she wouldn't be able to get the door shut.

Unconcerned with niceties, she pushed against Fran's back and shoved the door closed. She then put her back to it and put first one foot, then the other on the edge of the white porcelain toilet. Fran, who stood to the left of the fixture, did likewise. Melanie was a bit slower to catch on but the sound of the door opening was enough for her.

There they crouched, each one pressed against a wall of the tiny cubicle, their feet balanced precariously on the toilet seat. Barely daring to breath, they stared at one another and waited.

At the sound of footsteps making their way across the tile floor, Mel's eyes nearly leapt from her head. It was obviously the same man from before. She made one fierce gesture toward the stall door that Karen now blocked, indicating her desire to get the man that was even now stalking the poor brunette.

Karen ignored the gesture. Selfish or not there was no way she was going to put herself and her friends at risk to grapple with a knife wielding maniac, besides the whole thing felt a little too surreal to her. She kept waiting for someone to pop up at the top of the stall and yell, 'Smile! You're on candid camera'. The cry never came, instead, the only sound she heard was the gasping breath of her two friends, and the tread of heavy steps as the killer strode back out of the bathroom.

As the door slipped shut, Karen released a pent-up breath and set down a foot, trying to ignore the way her legs shook from the strain. It took five minutes of dancing about before the three of them managed to exit the tiny cubicle.

Once there, Frannie reached out and shot the dead bolt on the door closed, just as Mel turned to her and asked, "You said the door was locked before."

"It was, I mean I locked it, that girl shouldn't have been able to open it."

Mel didn't say a word, she just turned, her destination obviously the shower area. As much as Karen dreaded following, she couldn't allow the redhead to go it alone. Falling into step, she was unsurprised to see Frannie right behind her with a look of determination on her face.

888

"You boys getting a bite to eat?" Flo called out just as Dean reached the opening that led to the bathrooms and the restaurant.

Dean paused a step and turned to face the older woman. Careful to keep the gun out of sight he nodded and said, "Yup, we're gonna try a piece of that pie after all."

A broad smile lit up her face. "Good, you'll enjoy. Carl's one hell of a baker."

With a polite nod, Dean and Sam continued out the doorway, keeping their eyes peeled for Earl. It wasn't hard to spot him, not when he lay in the center of the entry, a pool of blood seeping from his slit throat. "What the hell, Sam?" Dean spat as he raised the shotgun.

Human or spirit, the rock-salt rounds packed one hell of a punch, as Dean had found out first hand not too long ago. It would dispel a spirit or knock a person off his feet, either scenario worked just fine for him.

"Got me, but I'm thinking poor Earl here never stood a chance. Whoever did this must have snuck up on him."

Dean glanced around the large open space, finding nothing but the entrance to the Panhandle restaurant and two doors that were marked as bathrooms. Tapping Sam on the shoulder, he indicated the men's room with a nod of his head, and headed that way.

He sensed more than saw Sam follow, his own gun at the ready. Dean seriously hoped they wouldn't run into anyone inside the restroom or they were likely to start a panic. That's if the bloody body that lay in the vestibule didn't start one first.

As he pushed the door open, Sam standing just behind him, he moved forward, signaling to his brother to go past while Dean covered him. As his brother began to go down the line of stalls, carefully checking each one, Dean followed, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. Whatever had done Earl in had been quiet and fast, two characteristics that made him nervous as hell.

Sam, at last, gave an all clear and then began to approach the opening that was marked showers. Dean hated letting the younger Winchester lead but he wasn't willing to let someone or something sneak up on them either.

"It's clear, Dean, no one here and there's no other exit," Sam said as he returned to Dean's side, his expression puzzled.

"Ladies next," Dean said with a grim smile as he ushered Sam back out of the bathroom.

888

Melanie stood staring down at the dead woman on the floor, a frown marring her features. Her friends flanked her, Karen on the left and Frannie on the right. Both seemed every bit as perplexed as she was. It wasn't that the woman was dead, again. They all agreed that this was what they'd find. The problem was the scenario. The body lay at the same angle, not close to the same angle, but, the exact same position. The blood, even down to the spray that had arched over the wall, was the same down to the last drop. Every thread of the girl's hair lay in the same position, her slashed throat a perfect match.

"Deja vu," Frannie said as she shuddered at the sight of the poor girl.

"It's exact, I mean this is what we saw," Karen said the disbelief in her voice, making it clear she had no clue what was going on.

"What if it was some kind of warning? Like a vision, given to us so we could stop this from happening," Mel asked as she studied the tableau before her.

"Well if it was, we royally screwed up," Frannie replied, her voice full of cynicism.

Mel really couldn't deny the logic in that statement. If they'd had some kind of mass hallucination, sent to them by some higher power then they had messed up. "I told you, we should have done something, anything. We should have stopped this."

Karen visibly bristled at her words. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm going to let you two get yourselves killed by playing Laverne and Shirley and jumping on the back of some drugged up, truck stop killer, wielding a knife."

Fran smirked and despite the trouble even Mel had a hard time keeping a straight face. "Playing Lavern and Shirley?"

"Yeah, you know, one of them ends up in trouble and the other jumps on the bad guys back and starts hitting," Karen said earnestly.

"Lavern and Shirley was a classic show. Remember the robot one, Lavern's pinned to the floor by the robot and Shirley's whacking the thing with a doll?" Fran replied her smile becoming full-fledged.

"It really was just the funnies—"

"Come on," Mel cried. "I'm serious here."

Karen's smile disappeared in an instant. "You think I'm not. I won't have it, you can believe what you want, but, I will not let you two get yourselves killed. So there's gonna be no going toe to toe with some psycho," Karen's tone made it clear that she wasn't kidding.

Despite knowing that Karen was simply worried, Melanie bristled at the implication that she was unable to look out for herself. "Is that right, Mom, you're gonna make all my decisions, keep us safe."

Up came the finger and Mel knew Karen was pissed for sure. The brunette pointed at Mel and said, "You can call me Mom all you want, but, I'm not gonna face Barry and Patty, and tell them that you're dead because you decided to be a hero."

At the mention of her father and stepmother, Mel backed down. She knew Karen well enough to know that it wasn't cowardice that kept her from facing the killer, it was her sense of responsibility. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Karen actually did a double take at Melanie's agreement. "No, I'm sorry, it's just…" Karen's words trailed off as the two woman stared miserably at each other.

"You know this caring and sharing has been a blast, but did either of you bother to notice that the body just disappeared," Fran said, her eyes wide with fright.

"What the hell?" Mel cried, certain that she looked just as scared as Fran.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Okay, ladies, things are way out of hand. We're leaving and we're leaving now," Karen said, the tone of her voice brooking no argument. "We'll head straight through the store and out to the car. Once we're locked in, we'll decide what we should do."

Frannie nodded in agreement, she wanted nothing more to do with this place. She had a husband and a daughter waiting on her return and she wasn't willing to jeopardize seeing them once more. "Do not pass go, do not collect 200.00 sounds about right to me," Fran agreed.

"No, no we can't just take off, we have to at least call someone, do something," Mel argued.

"Call someone, Mel, is your cell phone working, 'cause mine is completely dead. Not just out of service, but dead."

At Frannie's question, Mel dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was easy to see from her frown that her cell was also useless. "Karen?" she questioned with faint hope.

Karen shrugged and said, "No clue, it's in the car. I didn't bother taking it out of the console, I really wasn't figuring on this little side trip into the Twilight Zone."

"Government testing," Frannie piped up without even meaning too, the words just kinda slipped by her. One glance at her friends expressions made her wish she'd kept her idea to herself. Having started though, she finished, "We probably stumbled into some kind of government experiment, one created to seeing just how far you can push a person before they go insane."

"Yeah, well, we run across that girl again and they're gonna find out just what makes a person go crazy," Karen said, with a glance at her watch. She then stepped up to the door, reached out and pulled it open.

The dark-haired woman that stood just on the other side, seemed startled to find Karen opening the door. Karen on the other hand covered her surprise with a small smile as she stepped back holding the door open for the woman who was unknowingly moving toward her death.

Frannie and Mel stared in shock as the girl walked past a slightly nervous smile now gracing her pretty features. Fran figured it had something to do with having three woman stare at you when all you'd done was enter a bathroom. With one last nervous glance, the girl turned the far corner on her way to the privacy of the shower room.

"What the fuck," Karen whispered as she again glanced at her watch. "It's like friggin' clockwork. She's killed, lies dead for thirteen minutes , then disappears only to re-appear fifteen minutes later."

Fran watched as Mel drew breath, obviously ready to delve into the discussion, when Karen abruptly began shoving her backwards.

"Move, move, come on, he's coming," Karen whispered, as she began herding them back toward the bathroom stalls.

Not needing to be told twice, Fran chose the first stall, the one they'd hid in earlier. She'd been about to close the door, when Mel was abruptly shoved in with a hurried, "Keep her in here." from Karen.

"Please, Melanie, please," Frannie said as she reached out and clamped her hand around the redhead's arm.

"I will," Mel agreed at last, her expression black as they both worked to get their feet off the blue tile floor. "Where'd Karen go?" she whispered only seconds before the door opened with a soft thump.

With a shrug, Frannie reached across the open space and took Mel's hand in her own. There they waited for what seemed an eternity as the killer went about his business.

888

Karen had miscalculated. When she'd unceremoniously shoved Melanie into the first stall she'd thought she two minutes left until the killer opened the bathroom door. Her intent had been to get to the shower area, and though she had a feeling it was too late, she still felt the need to try and warn the woman who was about to meet her fate once more. Damn Mel and her guilty conscious, Karen thought, she'd allowed the redhead to get under her skin, making her doubt her own good sense.

Now here she was, the sound of footsteps following her down the short hall, trying to dodge the killer that had already murdered more than once. The fact that he'd killed the same woman twice didn't ease Karen's panic as she entered the brightly lit shower area. The brunette, in the process of trying to dry her shirt never even glanced up.

Karen on the other hand could literally feel the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she ducked right into the first shower stall. As carefully as she could she whipped the stall door closed and held her breath. Unlike the bathroom, there was no way to get her feet up and off the ground, her only hope was that the killer would pay as little attention to the shower stalls as he did to the bathroom.

With her shoulder pressed against the blue wooden door, Karen carefully peeked through the door crack. As she did she noticed a man wearing a dark coat ease forward, a wicked looking butcher knife clutched in his fist. The woman, busy drying her shirt, never stood a chance. Desperate to call out, to issue a warning to the younger woman, but understanding the consequences, Karen placed a hand over her mouth trying to stifle the moan she could feel building.

At last, the man was in position, with scary precision he wrapped one strong arm around the girl's chest drawing her back against him, and with the other hand ran the blade across her throat. It was the spray of blood that arced out from her throat that was Karen's undoing.

Black spots suddenly danced across her vision and she had the sinking feeling that she was going to hit the floor. She'd never fainted before, but she guessed that this would probably be her first and only time. The killer might not be all that efficient when it came to checking his environment, but if Karen ended up dropping at his feet he was bound to notice her. Gasping for breath as she leaned heavily against the door, she struggled to hold on, to push away the darkness that hovered at the edges of her eyesight.

888

Sam eased back out of the bathroom, shotgun firmly in hand and glanced around the empty entry. "He's gone," he whispered to Dean as he walked into the room, his brother close behind.

"Huh," Dean replied as he scanned the wide-open room. "Well, that's gotta rate pretty high on our scale of weird."

"Not really," Sam muttered as he searched the ground, looking for any sign of the body or blood that once lay here.

"True," Dean agreed as he nodded toward the room marked 'Woman'. "You wanna give the girl's room a gander or move onto the restaurant.

Sam looked toward the restaurant, then back again toward the mini-mart. "I'm thinking the restaurant. It's pretty quiet in there, late night or not."

Just then, both men heard the crash of breaking glass, there was little doubt the sound came from the restaurant.

"The Panhandle it is," Dean said as he started off.

Sam trailed behind keeping a watch on their backs. He had a feeling that whoever, or more likely still, whatever, had killed Earl was the one causing havoc in the restaurant.

It took only a minute for Dean and Sam to cross the open foyer. Once they'd reached the entrance, Dean gestured Sam back and eased around the corner, disappearing from sight.

Sam blew out a breath, irritated with his brother's high-handed attitude. He'd come to believe that it would never occur to his big brother to let him go first into an unknown danger.

It was the sound of the shotgun firing that put Sam in motion, around the corner he went unconsciously re-tracing the elder hunter's steps. Once there he paused for a second taking in his surroundings.

The Panhandle was typical of truck stop restaurants. Sam had entered at the lower left corner of the room, booths lined both the wall to his right and the one straight ahead of him. Tables also ran down both sides. The walls were paneled in a dark wood, and in the center sat a large wraparound countertop. Stools lined the front of the counter and behind it was obviously the kitchen, large windows allowed the cook to pass through food to the waitress and there were a set of swinging doors that led beyond.

It didn't take much for Sam to find his brother. Dean stood on the counter, a mess of straws and over turned napkin holders at his feet. His shotgun was raised and he was scanning the room, obviously looking to see if whatever he'd shot was going to make a re-appearance.

"We got a bastard knifing people, Sam", Dean said his voice laced with anger as he gestured with the gun toward a booth in the back corner.

Sam approached the table carefully, his own gun at the ready. Once there he found a young guy slumped over the table, a pool of blood under his head. There was so much blood it had begun to drip off the edges of the tabletop to land with a drip onto the linoleum floor.

Acting on instinct, Sam reached out to lift the man, his only thought was to confirm what his head already knew. The only problem was, when he moved to grasp the man's shoulders his hands went right through him.

"Already tried it, Sam, he's nothing but an echo, they all are," Dean said answering Sam's unspoken question.

"They all are?" The younger hunter asked as he glanced toward his brother.

With a grimace, Dean nodded toward the area behind the counter and then resolutely looked away. Sam recognized the set of Dean's jaw, there was no way anything was going to get past the older hunter today. It was obvious he was mad as hell and only getting madder by the minute.

When Sam leaned over the speckled white counter, he got a first hand look at what had gotten his brother so riled up. "I take it that's Carl and Connie," Sam said, ripping his gaze away from the two bodies that lay sprawled on the floor behind the counter.

"Yup," Dean snarled. "Damn son-of-a-bitch must have rolled right on through here slitting throats right and left. They never stood a chance."

Sam blew out a breath and surveyed the surrounding area. "Okay, so what do we know?"

"We know that the son-of-a-bitch slit the throat of at least five people, maybe more."

With a nod, Sam added, "Yeah, we also can assume it happened on May 18th, 1998."

"Yup, most likely, and ever since the guy worked out his road rage on these poor saps he's been killing whoever else stumbles into this place."

"Shit," Sam muttered as he gazed around the room. "How the hell are we gonna figure out who this guy was and where he's buried?"

"Something like this has got to have been in the news. We'll just have to wait it out till morning and then start researching. Luckily, he's only got enough juice to show up one night out of the year."

Sam knew his brother was right, as far as hunts had gone they'd pretty much lucked out. A simple salt and burn was something the hunters could practically handle in their sleep. "Let's get out of here. We'll pass the night in the parking lot just to make sure no one wanders in."

"Fine," Dean said grudgingly, as he jumped to the floor.

It was obvious that Sam's brother didn't like the idea of allowing the murderer, ghost or not, to spend the night terrorizing victims that had suffered enough already.

"Come, on, Sammy. We'll do what you said, wait it out till daylight, find the bastard's burial site and do an easy salt and burn. We'll be on the road again in no time."

"You just had to go and say 'easy'," Sam groaned as he followed his brother out of the restaurant.

888

Melanie paused only for a moment at the sound of the bathroom door closing once more. Then she was off like a flash, calling for Karen in a low whisper as she searched each bathroom stall. "She's not in here," Melanie called to Fran just before she darted down the short hallway leading to the showers.

Nearly immune to the sight of the woman lying in a pool of her own blood, Melanie strode right past her and began checking the shower stalls to the right, while Frannie went for the bays on the left.

"She's here," Frannie cried with palpable relief.

Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, Melanie turned and headed for where Frannie was hunched over the obviously frightened brunette. Anger warred with absolute terror as she took in Karen's pale face and closed eyes. "Is she okay?"

"I'm 'kay," Karen answered through clenched teeth. She was breathing heavily but seemed uninjured.

Frannie, never one to mince words, grabbed hold of Karen's arm and began to help the other woman to here feet. "Good, let's go."

Though still unsteady, Karen nodded and got her feet under her. "We have to go now. I saw…" her voice trailed off as if what she'd seen she couldn't bare to describe.

"We know," Fran assured her as they backed out of the shower enclosure.

"What, what did you see?" Melanie asked. The idea of just leaving, without ever finding out just what was happening here was killing her. She didn't understand how Frannie and Karen could just ignore the possibilities of what was going on and move on as if it had never happened.

"Melanie, don't, you know what she must have seen," Fran replied as she cast a worried glance toward the shaky dark-haired woman.

Melanie followed the two of them, past the corpse and down the hallway, and tried again, "I know what she saw, I just meant if she can give us the details maybe we might be able to figure out what's going on."

"We don't need to know what's going on," Frannie snapped, "we just need to get the hell out."

Karen, who had been quiet so far, now straightened, pulling away from Fran and turned to face Melanie. "He killed her, he walked right up behind her, slipped an arm around her throat and slit her wide open. Is that what you want to hear, 'cause I really don't see how that helps at all."

Melanie stepped back, startled by the anger in her friend's voice. "I didn't mean it like that Karen, but, don't you want to know what's going on?"

Frannie, easily falling into the peacekeeping role, quipped, "Maybe we're stuck in an episode of Scooby-Doo? You know, mean old man Wickels is trying to scare us away with a hologram so he can continue with his crazy bootlegging scheme in peace."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Melanie couldn't help but quip, "At least I'm Daphne."

As expected, Karen piped in, "That makes me Velma, I can do with being the brains of the outfit."

Frannie quirked a brow in irritation, "Okay, strike that analogy cause I'm so not being Fred."

At Frannie's words, both Karen and Melanie burst into laughter considerably easing the tension in the room. Melanie offered up a truce, "I saw a payphone just outside the store, how about we make for the exit but we take just one moment to call the police."

"As long as we're outside, that works for me," Karen said with an uneasy grin.

"Let's go then," Fran said as she headed straight for the exit. She stopped just before the door, and flipped the lock open. "We okay on time, Kar?"

Karen glanced at her watch and nodded, "Yeah, but we have to move. Shirt girl should be working her way here soon."

Melanie reached out, grasped the door handle, and drew a deep breath. "Everything's going to be fine, we'll just head straight for the store, and out the door, easy as pie."

As Melanie opened the door and darted through, she could have sworn she heard Karen mumble, "You had to go and say 'easy'."

888

"Damn," Dean said as he entered the large open vestibule. There sprawled on the floor once more was poor Earl. The elder Winchester hated jobs like this. Even though the man was simply an echo of his former self, it didn't feel right to stand by and watch him die time and again.

"I know, Dean, but there's little we can actually do. Without a grave we're not going to have any luck stopping the spirit that's killing him. We only run the risk of getting hurt ourselves."

There was no arguing with Sam's logic, Dean knew that, he also knew it's exactly what their father would say. Problem was, echo or not, he couldn't help but want to save poor Earl from the horror of dying. "That doesn't mean I have to like it," he growled, purposely slowing his steps. He figured if he could get another shot at the bastard that was doing the killing then at least his guilt would lessen slightly.

Earlier in the restaurant he'd only seen the back of the spirit. They were definitely dealing with a man, one that stood slightly shorter than Dean, he was heavy-set with thinning sandy colored hair and a dark colored jacket on. When Dean had entered the restaurant and seen the destruction the man had created, he hadn't hesitated to fire a blast of buckshot into the killer's back.

The shot had dissipated the figure but hadn't helped the poor souls he was tormenting. Nothing would help them except the total destruction of the killer. Then at last, the others would be at peace.

"Seems like the killer, whoever he was, started in the Panhandle and worked his way out here," Sam said, the grim set of his features making it clear how little he liked this job.

Dean nodded in agreement, his brother was likely right, they could probably figure the killer then left the building. "Aw, crap, that means Flo," Dean growled as he approached poor Earl.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, probably to offer some small bit of sympathy, but he never got a word out as the woman's room door was suddenly flung open and out tumbled three women.

Pity surged through Dean as he took in the three beautiful woman. They seemed focused on each other, maybe even arguing lightly about something. A red-head, stood the tallest, she was an inch or two above the others. Her long flame colored hair set off the perfection of her creamy white skin and she wore a hot-pink hooded sweatshirt.

Next to her was a blond, though not quite as tall as her companions she was still well above average in height. Her short hair-cut emphasized her striking green gaze and she was built long and lean. She moved with an athlete's grace and Dean couldn't help but be impressed by the sight of her.

The third woman was dark haired, and long limbed. Her leg's were snugly encased in a pair of tight fitting jeans, and seemed to go all the way up, though, Dean had to admit it was her chest that first caught his attention.

"Look at Charlie's Angel's," he quipped as he watched the three of them make their way out of the bathroom. They obviously hadn't noticed Sam and Dean yet but something had set them on alert.

"Huh," Sam said as he watched the woman make their way across the lobby. So deep were they in their conversation that they didn't seem to notice the men until they were right on top of them.

Then with a cry, the redhead pointed at Dean. "That's him, he's the one."

The elder Winchester wasn't all that worried, echoes though disturbing were unable to affect their surroundings, so other than kick up a fuss he was in no real danger. At least that's what he thought right up until the blond drew back her slim foot and let loose with a kick to his shin.

Pain exploded in Dean's leg as he jumped back with a cry. Unsure of just what the hell was going on, Dean could only hold his leg as he hobbled a bit from the pain. "What the fu—"

"Dean," Sam said nervously as the red head began to approach his younger brother.

Unsure of what was going on, but not willing to have Sam suffer the same fate, Dean lifted his shotgun and fired off a round into the air. At the deafening noise, everyone came to a halt.

It was the brunette that seemed to find her way first. "Mel, Frannie, he's not the killer, neither of them are. Just calm down."

Sam frowned, his large brown eyes softening now that he was sure the red head wasn't about to attack. "She's right, we can't hurt you."

Dean gave his aching shin another rub before straightening. "Actually, Sam we can. They're not echoes."

Confusion flooded Sam's features as he turned to face the trio. "They're not?"

"Not unless echoes are able to kick like friggin' soccer players. Damn lady, that hurt," Dean snapped at the blond.

"Swimmer, actually, and you're just lucky I aimed for your knee. Some pains aren't so easily gotten over," she said with a smirk as she moved back to her place beside the other two.

"I don't know what an echo is, but I have to say we're glad to find someone alive in this place," the well-built woman said, her hazel gaze direct as she studied the brothers.

"How'd you three end up here?" Sam questioned as he moved next to Dean, his sharp-eyed gaze scouring the room for danger.

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Frannie wasn't sure how it happened, but one moment they were leaving the bathroom, Karen and Melanie still arguing about priorities, and the next they were confronting two guys that looked, to put it mildly a bit shady.

The younger of the two was also the taller. Well beyond six feet, his face was smooth and his hair was a little on the long side. Heavy bangs hung thick on his forehead and he had a slight cleft in his chin. He was extremely good looking, though a bit young for Frannie's taste. He stood by the other man's side, a shotgun hanging by his side, as he kept an eye on their surroundings.

The shorter of the two was still tall. He was wearing a well-worn pair of jeans, a tee-shirt, a flannel and a jacket. Fran, used to Melanie's layers of clothing couldn't help but wonder just what he'd look like if he was pared down to the basics. Given his strong stance and slim appearance, she had no doubt it would be a remarkable sight. Not only was he the elder of the two but he also had a maturity to him, a world-weariness that gave voice to just how much living he'd packed into his twenty-something years. His short, sandy colored hair was neat and trim and he had a day's worth of beard. The scruff only seemed to enhance his brilliant green gaze, full lips and eyelashes that were way too long for any man.

All in all, he was one beautiful man, and now that Karen had assured them that he wasn't the killer, she found herself appreciating him and his gun all the more. It was such a relief to know that not only were they no longer alone, but they now they had two strong, capable looking men to protect them.

"Why are you carrying guns?" Karen questioned her voice full of distrust.

Frannie couldn't help but smile at her friend's accusing tone. Leave it to Karen to look a gift horse in the mouth. At this moment, as long as the guns weren't pointed at any of them, Fran was more than willing to focus on the positive side.

"What are you three doing in here," the older of the two shot back.

For a minute Karen's frown was so fierce, Fran thought sure the other woman was going to declare war on the two men. Then she seemed to take in the taller of the two's militant stance and the way he was obviously keeping watch and all the starch seemed to slip out of her spine. "We had to pee," she offered, with a weak smile as tears flooded her eyes.

At Karen's distress, the gruff looking man eased up a bit, his own eyes crinkling with his slight smile. "Life can be a bitch, huh?"

"You have no idea," Frannie blurted out without thinking, her own smile a trembling parody of her normal bold grin.

"I'm Dean, this is my brother, Sam, we can help," the shorter man said in greeting.

Karen swallowed hard and took a deep breath, Frannie had to admire her friend's grit when the brunette visibly gathered herself in hand and answered, "I'm Karen, this is Melanie and Frannie. We stopped here about an hour ago to use the restroom and…" Karen's voice trailed off as she tried find the words to explain what had happened.

The taller of the two, Sam, grinned faintly and replied, "Believe it or not we do understand."

Dean whose gaze had remained alert during his brother's speech now turned to face the women. "We need to know what you've seen, whatever you can think of might help us get a handle on what's going on."

At his invitation, Frannie opened her mouth, suddenly desperate to explain every horrible thing that had happened to them from the moment they'd gotten out of the car.

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Sam didn't even bother to hide his smile as his brother was suddenly bombarded by three women trying their best to describe just what had occurred since they'd entered the truck-stop. Voices raised in order to impart their individual perspectives, the trio actually began walking toward his brother.

Naked panic slid across Dean's features as he began to back away. The girls were undaunted though and continued to follow, shouting words like, deja vu and hot-air dryer. Sam had to admit he was more than a little curious as to just what the ladies had seen that had them so riled up.

At last, it seemed as if they had run out of steam. Each one's story tapered off until the silence seemed as overwhelming as the noise had. They stared hard at Dean obviously expecting him to provide an answer for just what they'd been witness to. Problem was it was apparent Dean was no closer to figuring out what they'd seen than he had been ten minutes ago.

It was the brunette that seemed to see the problem. With a glance at her girlfriends, she drew a deep breath and began to speak. "We came in the store and everything seemed fine…" she said, enunciating carefully.

As she continued, it became apparent that she considered his brother only slightly above an eight-year old in intelligence. Dean for his part seemed so damn happy that only one of the ladies was talking that he didn't even look offended. Sam didn't even bother to try and hide his smile. It was just too damn funny to see his brother so overcome by the three forthright women.

Finally, Karen's story came to the end. It was then she looked to Sam as if to ask whether he thought his brother had understood that time. Sam burst into laughter, he just couldn't help it. To witness his smooth, and unflappable brother get broadsided by a woman was just too funny. It didn't help that Dean seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes off her well-endowed chest and on her face.

This time it was Sam that drew the looks as the three women began to back up, their suspicious gazes now jumping between him and his brother. Afraid that they were about to bolt, or worse yet attack, Sam held out his hands in supplication. "I'm sorry really I didn't mean to laugh. We can help, we know what's going on," Sam reassured the women with a glance at his brother. "Or at least we've got a pretty good idea."

Karen, unlike her girlfriends who kept their gazes pinned on Sam, had been glancing repeatedly at her watch for the last minute or so. Sam wasn't the only one that notice.

"You late for an appointment?" Dean snapped as he watched the woman grow more and more nervous.

"She's coming," Karen whispered, as she automatically stepped closer to the other two.

Dean glanced from Karen to Sam with shrug. "Who? The girl that gets ganked?"

"Yes, the girl that gets—" Karen stopped her eyes wide as she raised one hand to point at the entrance to the restaurant.

The others turned to follow her gaze. There, walking out of the restaurant, her wet shirt held away from her body was the woman. As she approached them, she seemed to realize that everyone was staring at her. Obviously put off by the looks, she gave them a weak smile and continued toward the bathroom. Twice she glanced nervously back over her shoulder as if to check and see that she was still the focus of the group.

"Someone help her," Maggie pleaded, her voice breaking with sadness.

"We can't," Sam murmured, "We're about ten years too late."

"We can, however, shoot a couple rounds of rock salt into the thing that killed her. It won't destroy him, but it'll sure put a dent in his plans," Dean growled, his gaze glued to the restaurant entrance.

"Dean," Sam warned, "shooting him won't make a difference, we need to find him and dig him up to destroy him."

Dean shot a glance at his brother and frowned, "It might not make a difference but at least I won't feel so damn useless."

"Getting these girls out alive will go a long way to making you feel useful," Sam argued with his brother.

At last Dean nodded, his gaze still focused on the restaurant. "Fine, let's go then. We'll get them out and then talk."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the three women. "Okay ladies, who's ready to go?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Karen wasn't happy, not one little bit. You'd think that having two of the hottest looking guys she'd ever seen outside of a movie theater show up to rescue her would have eased some of her misgivings, but it hadn't. Instead, she felt as if the danger they'd been in earlier had just been compounded by ten.

Maybe it had something to do with the ferocious way Dean kept glancing around, his fingers caressing the stock of the sawed off shotgun he held. Or maybe it had to do with the way Sam clenched his jaw, changing his baby face to one of a hardened soldier. It could also have to do with the way that they seemed to accept her story without question and seemed to handle the idea of a killer spirit with such calm.

It was obvious that these men knew way more then she ever would, and for some strange reason, Karen desperately wanted to keep it that way. The way Dean's bright green gaze looked weary way beyond his physical age, made her think that she was right in her decision.

"Rock salt, killer ghosts? You're kidding right," Frannie asked, her eyes open wide as she attempted to look every way at once.

"Nope," Dean said, looking way too relaxed for an armed man speaking of shooting someone that has already been dead ten years.

"But ghosts aren't dangerous," Melanie argued, "They only need someone to show them the way to move on."

The two men exchanged glances just before they both broke out in a grin. "Yeah, well, tell them that," Sam said as he gestured toward the mini-mart. "We need to go and we should do it sooner rather than later."

Karen glanced at her watch and noted just how long it had been since the young woman had entered the bathroom, Sam was right they were running out of time. "Yeah, let's go girls," Karen said, shooing her friends before her. They were just nearing the entrance to the store, when the sound of breaking glass broke the quiet.

"Too late," Dean muttered as he put himself between Karen and her friends and pointed his gun toward the Panhandle. "Keep 'em moving, Sammy,"

"Come on, we don't have much time, let's go," Sam said as he used his large size to force both Melanie and Frannie toward the store.

Karen, hesitated and glanced at her watch once more. "He's going to be entering that bathroom in three minutes," she told Dean. As badly as she wanted out of this nightmare, she couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving him to fend for himself.

Just then a shadow emerged from the opening of the restaurant. At first it was little more than a vague outline of a man made out of darkness. Then as he moved, he began to gain solidity. He was half-way across the vestibule when it became apparent to Karen that this was the same man she'd seen slice the throat of the young girl in the shower. With a hard swallow, her gaze kept darting from the killer to Dean and back again, he hadn't moved a muscle, other than the small tic she could see in his jaw.

It was then the spirit seemed to realize he was no longer alone. Karen half expected him to keep going, to ignore their presence as he had when she'd hid in the shower. He didn't. Instead, with a bloodcurdling cry he lunged toward them, going from solid to translucent to solid once more almost faster than Karen could keep track.

Frozen with fear, her only defense the man that stood solid in front of her, Karen felt sure she was going to die. Instead, she found herself deafened by the blast of the shotgun. Dean's shot was true and the spirit dissolved in a mass of black smoke and a screech of what could only be called pain.

"Gotcha," Dean muttered, as he turned around. He seemed almost surprised to see her standing there, with what was most likely a stunned look on her face. "It won't stop him for long, but, at least we stalled him for a bit."

Karen could only nod, and smile weakly at his use of 'we' as far as she could tell she'd done little more than stand like an idiot.

"You'll get used to it," the handsome man said, as he shot her a grin and grabbed hold of her arm, and started hauling her toward the store.

Though she couldn't imagine in what life she would ever become used to what had just happened, Karen didn't resist as he led her away. Hell, if she were honest she'd admit she couldn't have done much to stop him anyway, though he wasn't hurting her, his grip was unbreakable.

"You just shot him," Karen said as she tried to work out what was going on.

"Yup."

"With salt."

"You'd be surprised what a little salt can do, that and iron."

With a little shake of her head, Karen mimicked, "Iron."

"Yup."

"Iron," Karen whispered as he pulled her into the brightly lit store.

"Apparently, it repels ghosts," Frannie said with a slightly stunned look as Karen came to a stop at her side.

"This is just the coolest thing ever," Melanie crowed as she bounced up and down on her toes in excitement. "Did you see it, did you see the ghost?"

Karen could do little more than nod. She had no clue how Melanie could find any of this fun, she was feeling more nauseas than anything else.

"Why are we stopping here?" Karen asked Frannie as she took in the sight of Sam and Dean having what looked like an argument.

Frannie shrugged and moved a step closer to Karen, shoulders brushing, the other woman spoke softly, "Doors won't open, Sam's pretty sure we're stuck here till morning."

With a groan, Karen nodded toward Flow who stood behind the cash register watching the group of them with a heavy dose of suspicion. "So she's a ghost?"

Frannie paled as she glanced nervously toward the clerk. "Yeah, how weird is that? I mean we talked to her."

"So she doesn't know she's…" Karen gestured, drawing a line across her throat.

"Apparently not, but she wasn't too happy to see Johnboy toting that gun," Fran continued as she rolled her eyes toward Sam. "He flipped her some kind of badge and she shut up."

"So what, he's impersonating some kind of officer? Great, 'cause I mean it's not like watching them handle lethal weapons isn't scary enough, now we find they like to play dress up also."

At this point, Melanie had apparently decided she was ready to do a bit more face to face with the spirit that was sending them all dirty looks.

Karen and Frannie watched as she made her way toward the older woman who'd greeted them so cheerfully only and hour or so ago. As she reached the checkout stand, she seemed to suffer a moment's trepidation, with a nervous lick of her lips she shot Flo a friendly smile.

Despite the situation, Karen and Frannie couldn't help but exchange smiles. Leave it up to Melanie to try to make contact with the ghost rather than run away screaming in fear. Sometimes the girl was just too damn brave for her own good.

"Hey…um, Flo, so uh, how's things? You feeling okay?"

"Smooth," Frannie said with a snort as she and Karen edged closer.

Flo, obviously still upset over the sight of two men openly carrying shotguns around her shop, glanced at the younger redhead and flashed her a weak smile. "'m fine, dear. Do you know what those two…men… are doing?"

Melanie shot a glance toward the brothers who were still caught up in their own dispute. "Just ignore them, they're not what's important here," Mel said with a vague wave in the men's general direction. "I think we should talk about you."

"Stop it, Mel," Karen whispered fiercely, she had no idea whether Flo could harm them but she wasn't taking any chances.

"What'd you wanna talk about?" Flo asked, obviously confused by the woman's question.

"How about how you feel, for starters? I mean are you cold? Do you feel as if you've left something undone?"

Karen had had enough, there was no way she was gonna sit back and listen to Melanie play Doctor Phil with some ghost while there was a killer roaming free. As she stepped forward to grasp Mel's arms, there was a burst of air originating from behind the countertop.

Before Karen could work up the spit to scream, the shadows behind Flo solidified into the shape of a man, a man wielding a knife. Without hesitation, he stepped up behind the clerk, wrapped one arm around Flo's shoulders and pulled her against his chest. The older woman's scream soon turned to a gurgle as he split her throat from ear to ear.

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"I'm telling you Dean, we need to enclose the store in salt and lay low till morning. Chasing this thing isn't gonna do anyone any good and it'll most likely get someone killed."

Dean shook his head and argued, "We've got hours till dawn breaks, Sam, we're not going to be able to just hide. This thing'll find a way in, a way to get at them." Dean's nod toward the three women made it clear who he was referring to. "If we go on the offensive though, we'll be able to keep him so busy he won't be able to get near them, he'll be too busy dealing with me."

Dean's grin left Sam with no doubt just how much his brother relished the idea of going toe-to-toe with the killer. Needing to end the argument before Dean managed to get his way, Sam crossed his arms and said, "You go, I go. I won't stay behind playing 'babysitter'."

His brother wanted to argue, Sam could see it in every line of his body. The only thing that kept his mouth shut was Dean's conviction that Sam was probably even more stubborn than he was. Dean was right to assume that Sam would follow through with his threat. Though he often gave in to his big brother's babying, when necessary Sam stuck to his guns. Otherwise, he'd spend the greater part of his life, sitting in the Impala safe from the world.

"Good, we'll—"

Sam's words were cut off by simultaneous screams. Before he could even fully lock in on the danger, Dean had fired off a shot and had scrabbled up and over a low display case that lay between him and the checkout counter.

As he followed his brother, Sam couldn't see much more than Melanie lying atop Karen, her sweatshirt and face covered in blood. Once he closed the distance, he saw that Karen was unhurt. She'd somehow had the presence of mind to grab hold of her friend and pull her back when the spirit had appeared.

Dean, standing near the two, his gun at the ready, spared Sam only a glance as he said, "Check her out."

Confident that his brother had his back, Sam knelt by the pretty redhead's side and grimaced at the sight of all the blood.

"Can either of you handle a shotgun?" Dean asked as he continued to keep watch.

Karen shook her head no, but Frannie stepped forward. "I can," she said as she used her sleeve to wipe away the tears that were making tracks down her cheeks. "My husband taught me."

"Good, give her your gun, Sam. I won't risk this son-of-a-bitch surprising us again."

Sam handed his weapon to the blond. She nodded grimly to him as she quickly and expertly handled the gun.

"You'll do," Dean said as he continued his vigil. "Just remember not to shoot any of us and you'll do fine."

Karen who was now more or less cradling the redhead shook her friend's shoulders and called to her, "Mel, come on, Mel, time to wake up."

Sam not liking the amount of blood that saturated the woman's bright pink shirt began to check for a wound. He began by running his hands down her arms and then down her long trim legs. Unable to find any injuries, he then began to check her body. Still unable to find the source of the blood, he even helped Karen to ease her over so he could check her back.

"How is she?" Dean asked, as he glanced at the injured woman.

"It's not her blood," Sam said, as Karen continued to try to revive her friend.

"Must be from the old lady," Dean replied as his gaze strayed toward the checkout stand. Flo had fallen to the ground so other than a spray of blood there was nothing to even suggest someone had been killed.

No longer of any real use to Melanie, Sam stood and relieved Frannie of her weapon. The blond seemed reluctant to give up the gun. Sam had a feeling she didn't enjoy being unable to defend herself.

"Fran, sit with her," Karen said as she got up from the ground with a low groan. Her destination was the coolers that lined the back wall. Just as she was about to grasp the handle, she hesitated. With a sheepish glance at the brothers she asked, "Is it even real?"

Sam nodded and replied, "Yeah most likely it is, but anything you take's been here for ten years now. You'd probably be better just staying away from it. There's water in my duffle bag."

With a grateful look, Karen changed direction.

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Fran happily took over Karen's spot, she'd never been as frightened as she had been when watching Melanie sag to the ground as the spirit slashed poor Flo's throat, her earlier amusement at her friend's excitement disappearing in the blink of an eye.

While handling the shotgun she'd been able to contain her fright, to push it away. Now, though, she had little to occupy her mind other than the danger she and her friends were in. "Melanie, wake up," Frannie demanded as she lightly tapped the other girl's cheeks. Mel was covered in blood, though apparently she hadn't been injured, even her glasses were splattered with red.

As Melanie at last began to moan, signaling her return to the land of the waking, Fran slipped her glasses off and carefully cleaned the lenses on the tail of her shirt. She grimaced as she worked and continued to nudge her friend awake.

"What happened?" Melanie whispered as she struggled to sit up.

"The ghost," Fran said succinctly as she handed Mel her glasses back.

Looking down at her blood splattered shirt, Melanie cried out, "Did he get me?"

Fran couldn't help but smile at Mel's dramatic outburst. "Don't you think you'd know if he did?"

The redhead's embarrassed grin was answer enough. Apparently unable to stand the blood, despite it not being her own, Melanie shrugged out of the sweatshirt she'd been wearing and tossed it aside. Underneath the bright pink material she wore another hoodie, this one a more subdued shade of grey.

Fran watched in amusement as her friend glanced at the grey sweatshirt and grimaced at the blood that had seeped through to stain that shirt. Knowing what was coming next didn't stop Frannie from laughing out loud as her friend began to pull down the zipper of the grey sweatshirt.

This time she revealed a lighter blue shirt. Though it was still a hoodie, it was made of thinner material and a hint of Melanie's real shape was beginning to show. A glance toward Dean made it clear that the man was appreciating the show.

"She always dress for weather in Alaska?" Dean questioned as he shot a grin at Frannie.

Fran's smile was genuine as she took in her friend's now slim figure. "Always, she likes to be prepared. We find it handy. None of us ever need to bring a jacket, we just have her peel off a couple layers.

"You never seem to mind my layers when you get cold," Melanie snorted as she double checked her shirt for signs of blood.

"Uh, what is this?"

Fran's fond smile froze at the sound of Karen's worried voice. Almost afraid to know, Fran turned toward her friend.

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Karen was dog-tired, in fact she was pretty sure she'd never been more exhausted than she was right now, and that included all the sleepless nights that having kids incurs. She wasn't sure if it was the constant threat of danger or the fact that it had to be close to three in the morning, all she knew was that she was at risk of falling asleep on her feet.

A quick glance toward Melanie had her breathing a sigh of relief, Frannie had managed to awaken the redhead. Her friend was obviously shaken, but hadn't actually been hurt. The fact that she'd passed out when faced with danger was something that Karen could fully understand. The terror she'd felt in the shower, as she'd watched the killer cut the throat of the brunette, had left her hanging on only by the narrowest thread.

Once at Sam's duffle bag, Karen dropped to her knees and pulled the bulky bag closer to her. With a flick of the wrist she opened the zipper and began to root around in search of the promised water.

With a frightened gasp, she pulled out a wickedly curved blade that seemed to shine with an unholy light under the bright fluorescents. She had no clue what possible use that blade might have, and as she dropped it back into the bag, she decided that she wanted to keep it that way. Happy to exist in ignorance, Karen continued her search for the water.

It was the vial of dark thick red liquid that had Karen re-thinking her whole zen attitude. Unsure if she really wanted to know, Karen held up the vial and turned toward the two men. "Uh, what is this?"

Dean didn't even bother with a response, he dismissed her question and allowed his brother to field an answer. It was obvious that Sam would be offering the explanations, Karen really couldn't wait to hear his reply, as the liquid looked strangely like blood.

"It's blood," Sam answered matter of factly not seeming to notice the way that Karen dropped the vial as if it burned into the bag. She then began slowly backing up, trying to catch Frannie's eye.

Instead of managing to garner her friend's attention, she backed right into a solid wall of muscle. "Dean," she breathed as she looked over her shoulder, giving the lethal looking man a weak smile.

"Human blood," he whispered with a killer grin.

If it wasn't for the fact that she was seeking protection from two gun toting, blood stealing humans, she would have fallen hard for that smile, ten years of marriage under her belt or not. Luckily for her, good sense prevailed and she jumped away from the green-eyed man rather than melting against him.

"Dean, knock it off. It's dead man's blood, Karen."

Sam seemed to think that his explanation was pretty straightforward, Karen on the other hand saw it as something else. "Frannie, get Mel on her feet," Karen barked out, her eyes pinned to the men that she'd counted on for rescue.

"It's for vampires," Dean drawled, his smug smile nearly as devastating to her senses as the spirit had been. "It's the only thing that'll stop a vampire, well, other than cutting it's head off."

"Vampires, of course," Karen whispered, her eyes still riveted to the man that was now slowly stalking her with the grace of a large cat.

"Karen," Melanie called, her breathless voice reminding Karen that she had her friend's safety to think about as well as her own.

"Uh, listen, we're just gonna head back into the bathroom," Karen said with a gesture toward the exit. "We can just hide there until morning, long as we keep an eye on the time we'll be fine." Though there were great huge holes in the logic of her statement, she couldn't help but feel their chances would be better with a knife toting spirit, rather than two very solid real men.

Frannie and Melanie seemed agreed as they both joined her each one flanking her sides. "We'll just be going." In one quick motion, Karen turned around and began hurrying out of the room, her friends right by her side.

"Stop," Dean ordered, his voice leaving no doubt that he'd issued an order, not a request. All three women came to a halt, all three refusing to turn around to face the two men.

"Well, hey there, you people. Welcome to the Panhandle," at the sound of the familiar voice, Karen moaned softly.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dean couldn't believe what a circus this entire hunt was turning out to be. At the sound of Flo's greeting, the elder Winchester turned away from the ladies and faced the older woman. All traces of blood were gone, magically wiped away. Though her smile wasn't quite as bright as the one she'd bestowed on him earlier it was a close thing. He figured it was her right to be a little put off by the five customers that had suddenly showed up in her shop.

"Hi, Flo," Dean replied when it seemed as if his brother couldn't find his tongue.

Flo's unease grew as Dean addressed her by name. "Do I know you?" she asked as she studied the younger man carefully.

Dean's smile never wavered as he inwardly cursed. All ghosts, echoes included, seemed to be overly suspicious, maybe it's because deep down they knew that there was something wrong with their limited existence. "I've been through here a couple of times," Dean lied smoothly.

Flo frowned for a moment and reached up to rub her forehead. At last, her countenance cleared and she bestowed Dean a real smile. "Well, now can't say's I remember but you're welcome. If'n don't find what you want, just ask. I got a little bit of a lot of different things."

Dean nodded and turned his back on the woman, he didn't have time to waste on the echo, he needed to make plans with Sam before the killer could pull himself back together.

"Dean!" Sam suddenly shouted.

His brother's warning came too late as an iron band suddenly snaked around Dean's neck, yanking him backward. Held immobile, the elder hunter had no doubt what would come next but there was little he could do about it. His brother had his shotgun at the ready but Dean was in the line of fire, leaving Sam all but useless.

As the edge of the blade pressed against his throat just under his ear, Dean began to worry that he might actually die this time. The blade pushed deeper, causing him to wince as it broke skin. The small trickle of blood that trailed down from his neck was only a harbinger of what was to come. He wanted to fight, to struggle, but his every movement drove the blade deeper, increasing the flow of blood.

There was no escape, and judging by the fear on his brother's face and the screams of the women that surrounded him, Dean wasn't the only one to realize it. As the band tightened around his chest, preventing him from drawing a proper breath, his vision began to cloud making it harder and harder to care about the knife at his throat. As his eyes slipped shut, the last thing he saw was his brother leaping forward, an iron blade in his hand.

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Sam gripped the hilt of his knife and lunged forward. He had little doubt that he would be too late, but, he had no choice but to try. The alternative was to stand by and watch Dean die as his life's blood splattered on the cheap linoleum tile of an out of the way truck stop.

What the younger Winchester hadn't counted on was Frannie. The blond stood just behind and to the left of Dean. In his haste to get his older brother, the spirit had completely ignored the woman. Pity for him, Sam, thought as he checked his headlong rush at the sight of Frannie grabbing up a nearby tire-iron that rested on one of the many display racks.

With a wild cry, she swung the iron at the spirit hitting it with a solid blow right between its shoulder blades. The force of her swing was such that Sam was afraid she would go right through the killer and hit Dean, but she somehow managed to check her momentum before it could hit his brother. The iron did the trick causing the spirit to dissipate with a scream of anger mixed with pain.

Unfortunately, the woman wasn't quiet strong enough to stop Dean from collapsing as he was suddenly freed.. She did, however, unwittingly provide his brother with a soft landing as Dean fell backward on her. Sam couldn't help but grin as he reached the tangled mass of limbs that constituted his brother and Frannie.

Already on his way to regaining consciousness Dean had the woman pinned, his head resting on her stomach. "A little help here," Frannie asked as she struggled under his brother's weight.

Sam moved to ease his brother off, but Dean's muttered, "'m fine…can do it," had him instinctually backing off.

A moment later, Dean put his hands flat against the floor and pushed his body upward, bringing him face to face with Fran. "I would much rather break my fall on you than Big Foot over there any day. Thanks," Dean rasped with a weak grin.

Despite the situation, Frannie burst into laughter as she carefully slid out from underneath the weakened hunter. As soon as she was free, Dean lowered himself back down his face pressed against the cool tile floor.

"Frannie, the shotgun," Sam said gesturing toward the woman to take up the gun he'd abandoned.

Fran nodded and handed off her tire iron to Karen. Both women set themselves to either side of the men, obviously intent on keeping watch for the killer. "Melanie?" Sam called as he gestured to the bag that Karen had rifled through earlier.

Melanie was at his side in seconds the bag gripped in her hand. "What do you need?" she questioned as she began rooting through the contents of the duffle.

"There should be a bottle of water, and a canvas bag," Sam replied as he carefully eased his brother onto his back. "Come on, bro, this is no time to be layin' around."

At his words, a sliver of Dean's bright green gaze stared up at Sam. "No rest for the wicked, huh?" he said as he reached one hand up to gently touch the cut on his neck.

"For that little scratch, hell no, I've cut myself worse shaving," Sam said as he hoped his brother didn't notice his shaking hands as he rifled through the bag that Melanie had given him.

"Sam, I'm fine," Dean stated firmly as he laid one heavy, calloused hand on his brother's arm.

Sam should have known better than to hope he could hide the residual fear from the older man. Dean always had a knack for picking out the youngest Winchester's every worry. "I know, let's get you cleaned up."

With one last pat, Dean pulled back his hand and gazed up at Melanie. "You don't happen to have any more of those sweatshirts do you, I think I ruined my shirt," he said as he waggled his eyebrows at the grinning redhead.

"Actually," she replied, "you can have your pick. The blood disappeared when the cor…" Melanie's voice trailed off as she looked up to find Flo only a foot or two behind her.

The older woman was trembling as tears made tracks down her heavily made up face. Sam could see the compassion on Melanie's face as the young woman stood and made her way toward the spirit.

"Flo?" she questioned, her voice heavy with pity.

"I don't understand what…what was that…I mean…I don't understand," she finished lamely.

Mel threw one desperate glance at Sam before she offered, "He was a ghost, the spirit of an evil person."

"But…I knew him…I mean he was a regular. He comes here all the time, how can he be a ghost?" Flo questioned her voice dropping to a near whisper with her last words.

'Get a name,' Sam mouthed as Melanie again looked to him for guidance.

"Flo, can you tell me his name? It's important, he's a bad man and we have to stop him."

Apparently still upset by the idea of a ghost, Flo ignored the question. "Why's he here? I mean if he is a ghost, why is he here?"

Sam carefully began swiping Dean's throat with a swab saturated in peroxide, not even his brother's slight gasp could keep him from listening with bated breath to Melanie and Flo.

"He died here," Mel answered cautiously. "He was a bad man and he died here."

"No one has died here. I've worked here for years," the older woman snapped, her confusion apparent.

"What was his name, Flo. We need to know so we can stop him," Melanie insisted.

"Paul Smith, he was a long haul trucker, used to stop in every Friday. Is it Friday?"

Sam couldn't help but pity the woman, it was obvious that she knew something was wrong, even if she couldn't pinpoint just what it was. At least now, they had a name to help track down the body of the psycho that would help to make things easier once they were free of this place.

"No, Flo, it's not Friday. It's Thursday, or well it was Thursday, I guess now it's technically Friday. Do you remember the last time you saw Paul?"

Flo frowned and placed one hand to her forehead. "He was here tonight, I talked with him, told him there was fresh pie."

"No Flo you didn't talk to him tonight, do you remember? He's dead and has been for a long time."

This time it was anger that filled Flo's voice, "He can't be dead, we just talked and then he walked out…and…" Here the woman's voice trailed off until she was doing little more than muttering to herself. "It was raining, hard, there was flooding on the highways. He wandered in looking more pissed off than normal. I tried to talk to him, but, he slammed past me. I never saw him again until—"

The woman's eyes widened to the point that Sam could clearly make out the whites of her eyes as she reached up to touch her throat. Though Sam could see no mark on her neck, when she pulled her hands away they were covered in blood. "He…" she said, her eyes going to Melanie for confirmation.

Melanie's face was a study in compassion, tears stood out in her eyes as she nodded carefully. "I'm sorry," she whispered her voice hitching with pity.

"I'm dead," Flo whimpered.

Melanie simply nodded, what more could she say.

Flo's words seemed to act as a catalyst. The tired looking woman stood up straighter, and her expression smoothed. "I'm dead," she said firmly. "I knew something wasn't right." At her acknowledgement, a look of wonder crossed the older woman's face. It was as if a light had been turned on inside her, her features grew bright, so bright that Sam finally had to look away. When he returned his gaze she was gone.

"Help me up, Sammy," Dean said as he began to struggle to his feet.

"What happened to her?" Karen asked, her voice trembling slightly with strain.

"She's moved on," Dean said as he grasped the hand that Sam offered him.

"Moved on where?" Melanie asked

Sam shrugged as he faced her. "Honestly, we don't know, a better place hopefully. Somewhere she doesn't have to spend her days, dying over and over again."

"Works for me," Frannie breathed as she adjusted her grip on the shotgun.

"So what now?" Karen asked as she glanced at her watch. "It's three forty-five, we've got what three hours till dawn?"

"Now, we lay low," Dean said with a frown.

"We can't just sit back and hide. There are other people out there, people dying," Melanie cried.

"Melanie, they're already dead," Frannie snapped, her patience obviously worn thin from the past couple hours.

"Yeah, but we could help them move on. It's not right to just—"

"Sh…" Dean said as he turned to glare at the women.

Melanie shut her mouth but not without shooting Dean a dirty look for interrupting her. Sam couldn't help but enjoy the woman's obvious annoyance with his older brother. It was nice to know that Dean's charm didn't work on every woman they met.

After only a moment of silence, Frannie piped up.

"Do you hear anything?" she asked Karen in a loud whisper.

Karen held up her hand for a minute before shaking her head. "I don't hear a thing, maybe he's wrong, could've just been a rat or something."

"A rat," Fran said with a gulp as she began glancing around the floor.

"Karen, you shouldn't have said rat, you know she's petrified of them," Melanie snapped as she moved to stand with her friends.

"Shit," Karen swore as she reached out and squeezed Frannie's arm. "It's not a rat, I'm sure it's not. It was probably just Smith."

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at the Karen's words. He had to wonder just how scared of rats Frannie was if she could be soothed by the idea of a ghost killer wandering around rather than a rodent

Dean on the other hand, seemed to be losing what little patience he'd been born with. "Sam," he said with a jerk of his chin.

Sam took it to mean it was his job to quiet the women. How he was supposed to go about that, he had no clue. Still it was better to try than to deal with Dean's anger.

"Ladies, can you please quiet down," Sam asked, hoping that the polite route was the quickest one to gaining what he wanted. "We can't hear what's going on."

All three woman quieted at once, but a minute later he distinctly heard Melanie say, "You know we've been talking for hours and now he decides we should be quiet. I mean really, it's not as if we're hiding, we're standing right here in the middle of everything."

Sam quickly smothered a laugh at the redhead's words and turned it into a cough. His brother, wasn't fooled. "Listen, Chuckles, take your girlfriend and see if there's any salt on the shelves."

This time Sam didn't bother to hide his grin. Instead, he waited for Melanie to join him and then gestured toward the back corner of the store.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Dean gave Frannie and Karen a wary glance. Both held weapons, Frannie a shotgun and Karen the tire iron, and from their grim expressions, neither would hesitate to use them. He, on the other hand, was standing there with nothing more than his good looks. "Gimme the gun," he ordered as he held out his hand to Fran.

The look the pretty blond sent him was enough to make him question whether she'd turn the gun on him or over to him. Then at last, she reluctantly handed it over, her grimace making it clear that she would have rather kept it.

"Here, Fran," Karen offered as she handed over the tire iron she'd been holding.

Frannie accepted it with a grateful smile. It was obvious that she felt better with some means of protection. Dean watched as Karen then made her way to a display of auto tools. Sorting through the jumbled mess, she quickly found another tire iron, swinging the heavy cross-shaped bar, she glanced at Dean with a slightly shame-faced grin. "It's better than nothing."

Dean nodded and set about re-loading the shotgun. "Iron'll stop 'em in their tracks."

The hunter was well aware of the fact that both women were pressing closer. It was obvious that they'd decided in the grand scheme of things he was the lesser of two evils.

"And the vampires, you were serious?" Fran asked, as she continued to keep watch.

"Unfortunately, I am. Dead man's blood weakens them. Holy water for demons, silver for werewolves and shape-shifters, and fire."

"Fire?" they whispered in unison.

Dean shot the ladies a grin and shrugged as he closed the shotgun with a snap. "Yup, fire'll stop just about anything else."

With a gesture for them to follow, Dean moved toward the opening of the store. He wanted to be able to cover as much area as possible, he had little doubt that the Smith was now seriously pissed.

Both women followed with quick steps, obviously not interested in getting left behind. Once he'd picked a spot where he had a clear shot at nearly every corner of the shop, Dean dropped his duffle bag and glanced at his watch. "It's just after four, we can expect sunrise in an hour, hour and half."

"What do we do till then?" Frannie asked

Dean waggled his eyebrows at the pretty woman, making her blush. "Now, we wait. This is the more glamorous aspect of the job."

Karen gingerly cleaned off a display counter, wincing as the items fell to the floor. Once it was clear, she hoisted herself up to sit cross-legged on top. It was obvious that Frannie wanted to join her friend, but she was scared to let her guard down.

"I gotcha covered," Dean told her, reassuring them both.

Frannie blew out a relieved breath and jumped up beside Karen. Both women chose to put their backs to each other, making it clear that they were aware of just how much danger they were in.

"You said…job. You were kidding right? I mean this isn't really what you do for a living?" Karen questioned, her voice making it clear just how odd that seemed to her.

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes, it wasn't the first time he'd heard that question. How could he explain that it was something of a legacy, a job that held little in the way of perks, but offered the satisfaction of saving people, of destroying evil. He went with simple, "Someone's gotta do it."

"So, you and your brother just ride around, killing…things," Frannie said with a nervous glance about the room, "and saving people?"

"Yup."

"So, you're like heroes?" Karen whispered, the awe in her voice coming through loud and clear. "I mean, honest to god heroes."

Dean felt an uncomfortable blush of heat stealing into his cheeks. It wasn't as if he didn't realize that what they did, it was simply that normally he was long gone before anyone could process that what they did saved people. "Yeah, well, I don't ride around on a white horse or anything, but, we do what we can," he said, brushing off the compliment.

"Maybe not a horse, but I saw your car. That is one sweet ride," Frannie said, forever earning herself a place in Dean's heart.

"That's my baby," Dean said with pride as he reached into one of his inner pockets and pulled out a bright yellow bag of peanut M&M's. Tucking the gun under his arm, he proceeded to dig his hand in, drawing out a handful of the brightly colored candies. "You girls hungry?"

"Ugh, starving," Karen said as she helped herself to some chocolate.

"Man, I love these, they're like my all-time favorite," Frannie said with a happy little sigh.

Dean nodded his agreement as he glanced over to where Sammy and Melanie stood, heads bent toward each other in conversation. "She married too?" Dean asked, having already taken note of the wedding bands that both Frannie and Karen wore.

"Nope," Karen replied as she glanced toward Sam and Melanie. "Single as they come."

"Huh," Dean replied as he gave the beautiful red head another glance.

The sound of a bell drew Dean's attention away from Sam. With a curse, he watched as Earl walked into the store. The man made it only as far as the first set of shelves before he paused, obviously put off by the disheveled state of the store and the five sets of eyes that now swung his way.

"Uh, Melanie?" Dean called out, as he gestured toward the trucker. "Do you think you could…"

888

"You know that was really great," Sam said as he idly began searching the shelves for salt. "I mean, what you did for Flo, I admire that."

"Thanks, I just wanted to help her," Melanie said as she tucked a piece of her flame-red hair behind her ear. She shot the younger hunter a sidelong gaze and shrugged. "But, I mean, you of all people have to understand that. You must help spirits move on all the time."

Sam avoided her earnest gaze and rubbed at the back of his neck. How did he find the words to explain that the spirits he dealt with on a day-to-day business were so warped that they no longer responded to much of anything other than both barrels of the sawed-off.

"Yeah, well, I mean what Dean and I do is a little different. We usually deal with angry spirits." There, thought Sam, that sounded pretty good, much better than admitting that they rarely bothered to try to communicate with spirits as they were too busy getting beat to hell and back. Being thrown up against a wall had a tendency to turn you into an 'act first ask questions later' kind of guy.

Melanie nodded earnestly and wandered down the next aisle. Sam shot a look at his brother, taking note that he seemed absorbed in speaking with Frannie and Karen. With Dean, though, appearances were deceiving. His brother was, no doubt still keeping watch that knowledge helped to ease the tension that gripped the younger hunter.

"So, Vampires?" Melanie asked as she turned to face Sam.

"Apparantly," Sam said with a low laugh.

"And…." Mel drew the word out.

Sam shook his head and asked, "And…?"

"What else? I mean if ghosts and vampires are real than what about….werewolves?"

Sam at last came across the foodstuffs aisle, and there was the welcome sight of a row of dark blue Morton Salt containers. As a kid, that deep blue container, with the little girl in her bright yellow dress was as familiar to him as Aunt Jamima was to most kids. More times than Sam wanted to count, he'd seen that container, sitting on the table ready to be used as a last defense.

"Here, just gather up as many as you can carry," Sam said as he put action to words and grabbed up a bunch of the salt containers. "Werewolves are real, and it does take silver. Sometimes, the movies do get things right."

"Huh," Melanie said, a slight shiver running through her body. "Good to know. What about demons, you know Rosemary's baby, the Omen, that kind of thing?"

"Definitely, demons and possessions can happen."

Arms full of salt, Melanie sent Sam a wink. "I'm, so totally, not surprised. I swear, my fourth grade teacher was possessed."

Sam was shocked by his own burst of laughter. "Is that right? Well, I'll give you a tip, next time say 'Christo' and watch the eyes, with demons it's all about the eyes."

"Will do, Sam," Melanie said, "I'll have to remember to give that a go next time I run into her at the grocery store."

They were both laden with salt and heading back toward Dean when Melanie asked, "What about Stephen King, I mean come on, you can't tell me something's not up with that guy?"

This time, his laughter was such that he kept dropping the salt containers. As he fumbled to get a hold on them once more, he caught his breath and said, "Actually, Dean checked him out. He was like fifteen and he'd just finished reading Pet Cemetery. He swore up and down till he was blue in the face that King was actually a demon. A flask of holy water at a book signing was enough to convince Dean that whatever the man is, he's not a demon."

"No," Melanie said, "he did not." Her laugh rang through the building.

Sam shook his head and gestured toward his brother. "Scouts honor, you can ask him yourself. Dad was none too pleased when we were escorted out of the store."

The younger Winchester couldn't help but admire the blue-eyed girl as she broke up in peals of laughter.

"Uh, Melanie?"

It was his brother calling for the pretty woman that brought Sam back to reality. He glanced over at him and couldn't help but grimace as he followed Dean's gesture toward the front door. There stood Earl an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Do you think you could…"

888

"Well, poor Earl's had his last piece of pie. Your girl Melanie has quiet the touch," Dean said as he accepted a few of the salt containers that Sam brought him.

Karen could easily pick out the frustration in the younger man's voice as Sam snapped, "Knock it off, Dean."

"What?" the older man asked his hands outstretched to show his innocence. "I'm just saying, she's handy to have around, saves me from all that touchy feely crap."

Sam rolled his eyes and snapped, "Yeah, cause, you're usually so sensitive."

"Hey, man, just cause I don't buy that whole 'you're okay, I'm okay crap' doesn't mean that I can'—"

"Yeah, actually, that's exactly what I mean," Sam interrupted, "I mean take that women in white, I think the closest you got to discussing your feelings was when you called her a bit—"

"Dude, she'd possessed my car. MY CAR!" Dean yelled. "I barely let your freaky ass in it, and I'm supposed to let Casper take it for a cruise around the block?"

Karen watched the exchange with interest, she couldn't help but be amazed by the brothers words. She had a feeling that she was getting a real insight into just how dangerous and weird their lives were. Her only hope was that Melanie was listening as well, the girl could use a dose of reality to counter the warmth of Sam's sweet eyes.

"And let's see, how about the Wendigo? Was I supposed to try and reason with him before or after he ate you?" Dean snapped. His gun was no longer at the ready, as he faced off with his brother.

Sam seemed equally pissed off, and Dean's comments only increased his anger. "That's not what I'm saying, and you know it. It's just you're so cut off, man, I mean, come on, we saw Mom's spirit and you never said a word about it, you just shut me down every time I try and broach the subject."

"What am I supposed to say, Sammy? That I was brokenhearted. That the idea that she sacrificed herself to save us, kills me, 'cause it does. Every damn day, it does."

Whether it was the little kid version of his name, or simply the pain that rang through in Dean's voice, Karen wasn't sure, but she watched as Sam visibly eased up. The tension seemed to slip away from his body, leaving him looking much younger and more vulnerable than he had only moments ago. "Yeah, dumbass, that's what you're supposed to say. You're supposed to tell me that I'm not the only one, being eaten up from the inside out."

Hands resting on his lean hips, head hanging down, Dean muttered, "Yeah, well you're not." Raising his head, he met his brother's gaze. "You're not the only one."

The brothers locked gazes for a moment and at last seemed to come to a truce. Though they spoke no words, Karen had no doubt that they'd come to some unspoken agreement. Dean was the first to break eye-contact. With a lopsided grin, he muttered, "Bitch."

Sam's expression was a mixture of resignation and humor, and his answering reply of "Jerk" turned his brother's small grin into a full-fledged, mega-watt smile.

Karen found herself stunned for a moment as she gazed at the two handsome men.

"It's like staring into the sun," Frannie murmured, obviously as riveted by the sight before her as Karen.

"I'm gonna get me one," Melanie replied as she eased up behind Karen and Frannie.

It was Frannie that turned to the red-head with shake of her head. "You can try, honey, and he might let you put a rope on him for a bit, but eventually you're gonna have to let him go. Guys like that aren't the settling kind."

"But what a ride it would be," Karen said with a sigh.

Frannie and Melanie both turned to stare at the brunette, before bursting into laughter.

"Come on, I'm married not dead," Karen replied with a wink before she too broke up, laughing hard.

888

"Okay, so we're down Earl and Flo, at least that's two less that Smith has to torture," Dean muttered to his brother as he eyed the Winchester's charges.

All three woman stood gathered in a tight group, each one held a tire iron and was eyeing her nearby surroundings with care. Dean had to hand it to them they were quick learners. He did, however, raise a questioning brow, when they all broke out in peals of laughter. The sound was sweet, despite the hint of desperation he could clearly hear. He wondered, vaguely, what they could find funny given their current situation.

"What?" his brother questioned as he noticed Dean's focus.

"Nothing," Dean said, as he grimly eyed their surroundings. "We've got to get them out, Sam. All of them."

His brother nodded, and clapped Dean on the shoulder, "We will, now let's get them set. I'll feel better once they're inside a salt ring."

"Right," Dean answered as he swung into action. "Girls," he called out, drawing the focus of three sets of pretty eyes. "Sam and I are gonna make a circle on the floor. You are going to stand inside it until we give you the all clear. Do I make myself clear?" Dean made sure his tone left no room for doubts.

"What about you two, you'll be in the circle with us right?"

Dean closed his eyes with a groan, leave it up to the ringleader to question him. "No, we'll be outside the circle ensuring that you're safe. That's our job, we make sure you get out alive. Your job is to shut up and do as you're told."

Sam's hiss made it clear that the kid felt Dean had been too harsh. At the moment, the elder Winchester couldn't care less. As long as the girl's did as they were told, he didn't really care who he offended.

"Fran, did you hear that? Next time Dean's got a knife to his throat, you're to just squeal prettily and watch him die," Karen snapped.

With a growl, Dean punctured the canister he held in his hands and began laying a line. As Sam quickly followed, adding his own salt to the ring, Dean concentrated on counting backwards from ten to allow his temper to cool.

At last, sufficiently calm, Dean gestured toward the circle that he and Sam had created. "That's exactly what you should do. Better that I take a hit than one of you. Now, get in the circle and stay in the circle. As long as it holds, you'll be safe."

At his words, Karen paled. It was obvious that she didn't like the idea of him sacrificing himself. However, she also wouldn't risk her friends' lives. "Let's go ladies," she said with a sniff. "The man speaks and we jump."

The sarcasm in Karen's tone was hard to miss. Honestly, the hunter didn't really care, as long as she did what was necessary he could ignore the rest. "See, was that so hard?" he questioned Karen with a wink, once all three ladies were inside the ring of protection.

Dean took Karen's middle finger salute as her answer. With one last grin, he turned his back on her and took up his position near Sam. "How long?"

Sam glanced toward his watch and then out the window. "I'm figuring another hour, but that's just a best guess."

"'K, that's fine, we can do an hour in our sleep."

"Dean," Sam exclaimed with a groan. "Why do you insist on saying shit like that? Every time you say it's going to be easy, something goes wron—"

Sam cut his words off with another groan as the overhead fluorescent lights suddenly went dark. "See," the younger man hissed.

"Actually, I can't see shit," Dean muttered. Without light from the overheads the building was pitch black. "I'm thinking old Smith is taking offense at our well laid plans."

"Guys?" Frannie called, her voice edging toward panic.

Sam's low voice was soothing and calm. "It's gonna be fine. Just stay in the circle."

Dean retraced his steps toward the bag he knew lay nearby and took a knee. The first thing he came across was his zippo, with a flick of his thumb, he brought the lighter to life. The small flame was like a beacon in the dark. It cast wavering shadows over Sam and the surrounding area. Using the light, Dean began to dig around in the bag once more looking for the flashlights he knew he'd included.

"Sam!" Melanie called, her voice shattering the quiet of the night.

Dean glanced up just in time to see a shadow just over his brother's shoulder. Before he could do much more than grab up the shotgun he'd set on the floor, Sam was knocked off his feet.

The blow was a solid one and it drove the younger hunter across the floor toward the opening that led deeper into the building. One minute Sam lay stunned and the next something grabbed him and began dragging him outside of the faint ring of light that Dean's zippo provided.

With a roar of anger the older hunter was on his feet, racing after his brother. "Stay in the circle," he commanded, as he left the store.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:** Okay so this posting comes with an apology. This story is complete however, I'm heading out on vacation tomorrow morning and won't return until August 1. So sorry, but well, not much I can do about it. So to all that are reading and reviewing sorry, sorry, sorry, and I promise first thing next friday I'll have the updates up and running again ;) Thanks K

**Chapter 8**

"Oh shit…Oh shit…Oh shit," Melanie chanted as the ladies turned to watch Dean race after his brother. Within seconds their only light blinked out as the hunter left the room.

Karen didn't mind when Frannie latched onto her arm adding new bruises to the old ones. Truth be told she'd never been so frightened as she was right now and she couldn't imagine a scenario in which she'd ever be this scared again. Their light, and their only chance at survival had just rushed out of the room with no more than a harried, "Stay in the circle."

"Easy, Melanie," Frannie said as she sought to calm the other woman. Her voice in no way betrayed the fact that she was even now holding onto Karen like a lifeline.

In the pitch black that they now found themselves, unable to see anything, Karen figured she was a lifeline, she had little doubt that Fran was also keeping contact with Melanie.

"We need light," Karen whispered. She was unsure of why she bothered lowering her voice. They were right smack dab in the middle of the store visible to anyone and anything. At least anything that didn't require light to see, and Karen had a pretty strong idea that the spirit was firmly entrenched in that category.

Frannie's grasp momentarily eased, as the other woman patted down her pockets. "I've got nothing, how about you Mel?"

Melanie's voice was clogged with tears as she replied, "Nothing."

Karen nodded and turned, forcing the others to turn with her. As they played a game of 'ring around the rosy' in the small circle, she attempted to remember where she'd last laid her purse. "I need my bag."

"It's over there," Frannie said.

The brunette felt more than saw Fran's arm pointing toward where the two of them had been sitting only ten minutes ago. "But, you can't leave the circle, we're better off in the dark."

Despite knowing that Fran was probably right, Karen couldn't help the images that were running through her mind. First and foremost, was the idea that the salt line could have already been breeched by their feet. In the dark, they'd never be able to tell, not until he was breathing down their necks. "I'm not sitting here in the dark," Karen whispered hoarsely.

"Better to sit in the dark than to have that thing drag you off," Frannie snapped as she tightened her grip.

Karen stared at the spot where she was certain her purse lay and shook her head. "I'm gonna have to disagree with you there. Let go."

"Karen…" Frannie started, obviously intending on talking Karen out of making a break for the purse.

Before Karen could think about her decision, she brought her hand down hard on Frannie's arm, breaking the blond's grip, and bolted. In her mind, she knew that the table top was only roughly ten feet away, but as she crossed the empty space between her and it, she couldn't help but feel the distance had to be closer to fifty feet.

While within reach of her friends, the darkness had seemed frightening and fraught with danger. But, outside the circle, unable to see her friends or the outline of protection the salt offered, the dark seemed actually alive. She could feel hundreds of unseen fingers trailing over her skin, pulling and tugging at her hair and her clothes.

In her mind, she knew what she was feeling was simply her imagination working overtime, but as she ran, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if it was real. If at any moment those fingers would clamp down, holding her fast, just before dragging her off as Sam had been drug.

Driven on to greater speeds by her fear, Karen misjudged the distance. With a cry, she ran headlong into the countertop nearly breaking a rib as the edge hit her in the chest. Her breath exploded from her lungs and she was left without any air to feed her oxygen-starved body. To faint was to die, so, instead of giving into the lightness that was filling her head, she forced herself to take in one large gasping breath. As the air entered her lungs, she felt the blackness recede making her conscious of voices screaming her name.

She was so out of sorts that she very nearly turned and headed back to her friends without the bag. With groping hands, she scoured the top of the table searching for her purse. As her hands at last fumbled across it she screamed in frustration as she nearly managed to knock it to the ground.

At last she had it in her grip, she could still hear Frannie and Melanie shouting encouragement. Now that she had the bag, she felt as if she wasn't quite as at risk as before. With her back to the table she tried to find her bearings, she didn't want to stumble across the room, only to find herself no where near the circle and the girls. To this end, she partially unzipped her bag and began rooting around in it with one hand.

Though she'd never been a smoker, a lighter was on the list of things that she always kept on hand. More times than she could count, it had come in handy and Karen could only prey that this was one more time to add to the list. As her hand closed over the smooth plastic shape of the butane lighter, she heard Dean shout his brother's name. With a brief prayer for Sam and Dean, she drew out the lighter and lit it.

888

"Sam," Dean yelled, his voice breaking slightly at the strain. He couldn't believe just how quickly his brother had disappeared. One minute Sam had been standing a couple feet away from him and the next thing he knew, the kid was gone, drug off into the darkness that encompassed the whole building.

Dean let loose another curse as the lighter he held in his hands began to burn his fingers. Despite the drive to find Sam, he needed to find his flashlight and double check the rounds in his shotgun. He'd do Sam no favors by getting himself caught and killed. Careful to put his back to a wall, he took a knee and began rifling through the bag he'd had the forethought to grab before racing out of the store. Just when he'd given up the flashlight for lost, his hand closed around the shaft.

With a sigh of relief, he pulled out the light and switched it on. The bright beam broke through the darkness and sent shadows dancing toward the corners of the vestibule. A quick pan of the room showed he was alone, for the moment at least. Though Earl and Flo had been sent on their way, there were still at least four echoes rooming the building plus the killer. That was much more in the way of distractions than Dean needed. He only hoped that at least the three women he'd left in the shop would stay put.

"Sam," Dean called once more as he gained his feet, his shotgun held firmly in his hand.

As he broke into a jog, he kept his eyes peeled for Smith. The killer had drug Sam off, leaving no trace of the younger hunter. As he reached the entrance to the restaurant he paused, and shone the light over the booths. He was surprised to find them empty and looking rather neglected, he'd half expected to find a bustling restaurant or even worse an array of dead bodies littering the floor. "Sammy" he called, his anxiety growing in the face of the silent room.

Careful to keep his gun in hand, Dean eased forward his ears straining for any sign of his kid brother. As he approached the counter, he deftly threw up the divider and slipped through, scanning the room for any sign of Sam. There was nothing to see behind the counter, no sign of Sam or any of the echoes, only piles of litter scattered across the floor. Not willing to accept the loss of his brother, Dean moved on.

As he pushed open the double doors, he paused on the threshold. For just a brief moment he could have sworn he'd heard something. Weapon at the ready, he moved forward step by step past the grill. The room was little more than a square box, with the grill lining one wall, and a preparation counter and a double sink at the other. The dishwasher sat in the far corner and shelves holding the dishes lined the back wall. That was it, nothing else on the floor, nothing else to be found on the walls. Dean let loose a curse in frustration. Sam wasn't here, noise or not his six foot four brother was no where in sight.

Dean slammed his way back out into the restaurant and shone his light around once more. Though a part of him knew there was every probability that Sam had ended up in one of the bathrooms, or even a utility closet, he couldn't shrug off the feeling that his brother was close by. He very nearly gave up, he was heading out the entrance, the beam of light pointing toward the floor when he heard the low thumping sound once more. This time he was certain it was no mouse.

With a flick of his wrist, he shone the light toward where the sound had originated from, there, resting against the wall to the left of the doorway was a large drink cooler. The rectangle fridge stood on one end, and had a glass front door. The shelves of the unit lay scattered across the floor. Dean scrambled over them in his haste to get to the appliance.

The beam of his light shone through the glass, lighting up his little brother's familiar features. Sam was slumped on the floor of the unit, his eyes closed tight. "Sam," Dean called as he banged a fist against the thick glass. His brother's head jerked slightly banging against the wall, and causing Dean to wince. "Hold on kiddo, I'm gonna get you out of there." Dean reached out and grabbed hold of the door handle and pulled.

Nothing happened. No matter how Dean strained he was unable to get the door to budge. Worry began to overtake him as he tried wedging his fingers into the door crack and pulled. Muscles straining, he grunted at the effort and pulled even harder. At last he gave up, the door was stuck fast and pulling on it wasn't going to do a damn thing. "Sammy, open your eyes," Dean shouted with another bang on the door. This time his brother's eyes flickered upwards for a moment before slipping shut again. "Damnit, Sam, look at me."

With a sigh of relief Dean watched as Sam blinked again, forcing his eyes open at last. Dean didn't think he'd ever been so grateful to see his brother's familiar hazel eyes. Though, Sam seemed a bit unsure of his situation in that first moment, it soon became clear as he started pounding on the glass that he'd caught on.

"Don't bother," Dean shouted, "It's no good."

Sam continued to beat against the glass in vein. Afraid that he'd do damage to his hands, Dean finally reached out and brought his own fist down hard on the door. The blow startled Sam and helped to draw his attention back to Dean. "It's stuck fast," he called out raising his voice to be heard through the insulation of the cooler.

His brother stared hard at him for a moment before struggling to lift his hands to his ears, his large frame made it difficult to say the least. At last he placed his hands on either ear and shook his head indicating that he was unable to hear Dean. Shoving at the door once more, Sam's expression seemed to beg Dean to get him out.

Dean held one hand, palm facing Sam and mouthed the words, "I know". He then rested the palm against the fridge offering Sam the only bit of comfort he could. Sam returned the gesture, his larger hand pressing hard against the glass.

"You okay?" Dean asked, removing his hand and forming a circle with his thumb and first finger.

Sam shrugged his shoulders the best he was able and seemed to relax slightly.

"The door's stuck," Dean mouthed as he mimed trying to open the door.

His little brother's eye roll, left Dean little doubt that he understood. "Yeah, well, problem is I don't think I can open it while Smith's still big man on campus."

This time despite the fact that he couldn't hear the noise, Dean had little doubt that his brother just huffed at him. Dean had to grin, only his baby brother could convey so much in a single sigh. "I'm working on it, Sam, you need to just sit tight," Dean said as he gestured to Sam to stay sitting.

Sam's middle finger flipped up in a universal gesture as he squirmed around trying to get comfortable. Once settled as comfortably as he could be, Sam pointed toward the doorway and then put his hands to his chest and mimed breasts.

With a pang of guilt, Dean created a circle with his hands and put two fingers inside it. "I left them in the circle, but I told them to stay put. I'm sure they're fine."

Apparently, Sam's faith in the women was about as great as his own as the kid once again rolled his eyes.

"I don't care," Dean argued with a shrug. "I wasn't about to just let you go," he insisted as he watched his brother stare wide-eyed at him. "Stop staring at me," Dean bit out at last, guilt and Sam's imploring expression making him feel defensive. "They'll be okay. Besides if I engage Smith he'll leave them alone."

Decision made, Dean didn't give his brother any more time to argue. Instead, took the shotgun and mimed firing it, he then turned to stare hard at his brother. The younger Winchester's frown made it clear that not only did he understand what Dean was planning on doing, but he'd didn't approve.

Dean pressed his hand against the cool glass once more. Not bothering to speak, he simply held his hand there for a moment, offering his brother the only reassurance he could.

888

"What are you doing," Frannie snapped. "Get back here before he comes back."

Frannie couldn't see much but if she really concentrated she could just make out a vague shape that had to be Karen. Whether out of bravery or stupidity her friend had decided to make a break for her bag, her intention to give the girls some light. Despite the fact that Fran would have done just about anything for a bit of light, she drew the line at leaving the salt circle.

"I've got it," Karen said as a sudden bright light bloomed around her.

At the confirmation that her friend was okay and had managed to find them some light, Fran's anxiety eased slightly. "Okay, so you got it now get your ass back here."

"Shit," Melanie exclaimed as the sudden light made it clear that the salt line had been breached. There were a couple scuff marks in the fine granular ring obviously caused by their feet in the dark.

"There's more salt," Karen called as she started back toward them. "It's just by the—Melanie, behind you!"

For a moment, Frannie was a step behind. At first she thought Karen was talking about the salt, it was Melanie's scream of fear that told her it was more than that. She whipped around to face her friend and saw that Smith had one arm locked tight around Mel's throat and was dragging her backward.

Melanie was struggling against the killer, trying to find purchase with her feet on the floor, her cries became weaker as the blade that rested against her throat was pressed harder into her neck. Frannie didn't give herself time to think, if she had she might not have had the courage to act. Instead, she scooped up the container of salt they'd used to make the circle and sprinted toward Smith and Mel.

Once she was in range she drew back her arm and flung the box forward, a spray of salt burst from the opening hitting both Melanie and Smith. The salt helped to weaken Smith's grip, allowing the redhead to slide to the floor.

The salt alone probably wouldn't have been enough, but luckily for Melanie, Frannie wasn't the only one that had gone on the warpath. Karen suddenly appeared, one of the tire irons gripped tight in her hands, and swung with all her might, cutting across Smith with one smooth motion. The spirit dissipated with a howl, leaving the three girls breathless and weak.

"Get her on her feet, Fran, quick," Karen ordered.

Fran glanced toward her friend and noticed for the first time that she no longer held a lighter. A glance back over her shoulder showed that Karen had started a small fire over by the now destroyed salt ring and that's what was producing the light.

"Come on, sweetie," Fran said as she struggled to get Melanie to her feet. The redhead was taking shallow breaths and looked ready to faint.

As the two of them began to make their way toward Karen and the light, Melanie seemed to get herself together. By the time they'd reached the brunette's side, Mel was standing on her own, still shaky and pale but at least she no longer looked quite as wide-eyed.

"You okay?" Karen questioned Melanie as she completed a new circle that encompassed the small fire she'd started.

With a slight nod, Melanie stepped inside the circle and collapsed to the floor. "I'm okay thanks to you two."

Frannie, confident that the circle was complete, settled down with her friend beside the fire. It looked as if Karen had started it with napkins and wooden coffee stirrers. The blaze was little but even the small amount of heat it was putting off was welcome.

Both girls sat and watched as Karen darted around the store, grabbing items off the shelves. Fran was unsure of what she was collecting but she knew one thing for sure. "Hurry, Kar, he's not gonna be gone for long."

"We've got a few minutes and I want to make sure we have enough fuel for the fire. I won't be stuck in the dark again."

In only a few minutes, Karen returned to the fire, Sam's duffle bag clenched in one hand and a shopping bag full of wooden items in the other. "Here, Fran, you check the bag, see if there's anything we can use to protect ourselves."

With a nod, Fran took the bag and began to riffle through it, unsure of what exactly would be of use. There was a handgun the size of a small cannon, but the ammo looked to be made of silver and neither man had mentioned silver being of any use against the spirit. She did pull out a handful of the salt shells and tuck them into her pocket, she had no gun to fire them, but she figured they'd be of use somehow filled with salt as they were.

"I can't find anything," she told Karen as she continued to search the bag. Most of its contents would do little good. "Lock picks, knives, ammo, lighter fluid, enough matches to set a rainforest on fire and a ton of shotgun shells, but no more iron or salt."

"That's okay, we're gonna be fine, the sun's going to be rising sooner than later, all we have to do is sit tight," Karen said as she tossed the wooden handle of a snow scraper on the small blaze.

"We can't just sit tight," Melanie argued sounding stronger by the minute. "We have to help find Sam."

"Oh, no," Karen countered as she turned her back on the fire so she could watch the store. "Those guys are more than capable of fending for themselves. They'll be much better off if they don't have to worry about us."

Frannie glanced back and forth between Karen and Melanie, the two were best of friends but often butted heads on how things should be done, it looked like this was going to be another showdown of wills. Problem was both women were way too stubborn to back down. That left Frannie in the unenviable position of playing referee.

"We owe them our lives, how can you just sit there and leave them up to fate?" Melanie cried dramatically.

"I've got enough keeping you two alive, I can't handle anymore," Karen snapped.

"Keeping us alive, Mom?" Melanie said jumping to her feet in obvious indignation. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself—"

"Capable, you call what just happened a sign of being capable?" Karen cut in as she too gained her feet.

Frannie watched as they hurled insults back and forth, she knew from experience that it was better to let them wind down a bit before interrupting, otherwise she ran the risk of getting drawn into the feud and that was something she avoided at all cost. She had every intention of letting them vent when a bit of movement caught her attention. She turned to follow it, her eyes widening at what she saw.

"Uh, girls," Fran said, trying her dead level best to remain calm.

Both Karen and Melanie carried on, oblivious to the world. Left with little choice, Frannie put her fingers to her mouth and let loose an ear-splitting whistle. At the sound both Karen and Mel turned toward her, with matching frowns.

"What," they demanded in unison.

Fran gave a little shrug and pointed toward the back of the store. "Oh, nothing really I just figured you'd want to know that we were being watched."

"Crap," Melanie sighed as she saw Smith standing fifty feet away, his dark eyes focused on them.

"Shit," Karen said as she double-checked the salt circle.

"See, that's the response I expected," Fran said with a grim look on her face.

888

Sam couldn't help but feel reassured as Dean pressed his hand against the glass. He was always so surprised when his brother let his guard down. When he was younger it had been different, then Dean had gone out of his way to reassure a much younger Sam with touch and words. Back then, he'd always been the counter to his father's rather abrupt 'suck it up' mentality. However, Sam's leaving and the years apart had rendered them somewhat awkward with each other. They were still working to gain back the easy camaraderie that they'd once shared.

To Sam's delight, the process was going much smoother than he'd imagined. It was a lot like riding a bike, once you learned you never forgot. You might wobble a bit, and it takes time to get back into a rhythm but the long and short of it was that you still had the necessary skills. Being a brother to Dean was just like that. The elder Winchester was different, deeper somehow than Sam could remember him being but he was still Dean, he was still Sam's big brother in all the ways that really mattered.

"Umpf" Sam blew out as he struggled to get more comfortable. The small space he'd been crammed into left a lot to be desired for comfort. He was doubled nearly in half and though he was glad the refrigerator wasn't on, he couldn't help but wish for some fresh air. Given the fact that the cooler was basically soundproof led Sam to believe it was airtight also that left him with a limited amount of oxygen Things just never were easy, Sam thought as he gazed out at his brother once more.

As he made eye contact with Dean, the elder hunter gave him a grim smile and mouthed the words, "I'll get you out." Sam had no doubt that Dean was considering the fact that Sam could very well suffocate before Smith had a chance to slit his throat.

It was a bit strange though how much the fact that Dean was on the case eased the younger Winchester's worries. His brother had never failed him, and Sam couldn't think of any situation where he ever would. Even when he'd made the decision to go to Stanford, Dean had supported him in his own way. His brother had his back, of that he had no doubt.

Dean's fingers tapping on the glass brought Sam's attention back to the situation at hand. His brother made an 'Okay' gesture with his hand and pointed toward the restaurant exit.

It was clear from Dean's expression that he needed reassurance that he was doing the right thing. His big brother seemed suddenly reluctant to leave Sam alone. 'I'll be okay' is what Sam would have said if he were able. Instead, he worked to convey the emotion with his eyes, knowing Dean needed to believe that.

Sam watched as resignation slumped Dean's shoulders as his brother lifted the bag, grabbed the flashlight and his shotgun. He watched as Dean moved toward the exit the only light held in his hands. With one last pained glance over his shoulder, Dean headed toward left the room.

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"So what now?" Melanie asked as she stood shoulder to shoulder with her friends. The spirit of Paul Smith hovered just outside the circle, his cold, dead eyes staring holes through the three of them.

"Now, I'm getting pissed," Karen replied.

"Yeah, I have to admit, I'm sick of feeling useless," Frannie offered.

Melanie wasn't sure just how much the spirit understood so she lowered her voice. "So we're agreed, we act?"

Karen nodded and then turned her back on the spirit and began to scan the surrounding area. "Yeah, we act. This circle looks a little too much like a barrel, I'm not willing to be a fish."

"What about bait, you willing to be that?" Frannie questioned as she carefully gestured toward the far side of the room.

Melanie very nearly laughed at Karen's heartfelt sigh. It was obvious that she would do what was necessary but that she didn't have to like it.

"I guess I can do bait. You sure you can handle that thing well enough?" Karen said, careful to keep her gaze off Sam's shotgun that had been left where he'd dropped it.

Fran shot Karen a killer smile and said, "I can handle it, you sure you can run fast enough? You are getting old."

"She's not gonna be alone," Mel said firmly. There was no way she'd be left in the safety of the circle while her friends put themselves at risk.

"Well, okay then, it looks like we have a plan," The relief in Karen's tone made it clear that for her, doing something was much better than doing nothing.

"Looks like," Melanie whispered.

"Count of four, Mel, you go left, I'll go right. Frannie, don't leave the circle till your sure he's following one of us. Then don't stop for anything until you get that gun in your hand. You got me?" Karen said her gaze pinned to the killer.

"Right count of four, I'm ready," Mel said grimly. Determined to do her best, she readied her stance and waited for the count off.

"Four, three, two—"

"Wait, wait," Mel cried cutting off Frannie's countdown. "Do we go on one, or are you going to say like zero and then we go?"

Fran and Karen exchanged glances and the brunette shrugged. "We'll go on one…so it'll be four, three, two, one," Karen said.

"So, four, three, two, one…, and run, okay, I got it. I'm ready," Melanie said as she focused once more on where she was headed.

"'Kay we're good, right," Frannie asked as she glanced at first Karen and then Mel.

"We're good, you can count," Mel replied.

"Four, Three, two, one," Frannie shouted the last number and both Melanie and Karen took off in a flash.

As much as Mel wanted to keep an eye on her friends, she knew she was better off watching for Smith. The killer seemed to be able to appear and disappear at will, making it near impossible to guess where he'd turn up. Darting into the inky darkness that surrounded the meager light of Karen's small fire, Melanie slowed only when she could no longer see clearly enough to maneuver the aisles at a run. As she canvassed the rows, keeping an eye out for the killer, she caught glimpses of her friends.

She was just sliding past the coolers, when she heard, Karen cry out. No longer caring about the consequences, Melanie ran toward the sound. Just as she rounded the aisle containing paper goods, she spotted, Karen. Her friend was on the ground, trying frantically to stay out of reach of Smith's grasping hands. Melanie drew a deep breath just as the killer brought his knife down in an arc toward Karen.

"No," Melanie screamed, trying to draw the spirit's attention.

Smith, obviously thrown off by the sound, paused for a moment. That one moment proved to be long enough. The sound of the shotgun blast echoed through the small store, causing Melanie to skid to a stop. One moment, the killer had Karen pinned, and the next he was gone.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Hey all sorry for the delay in posting, but well heck, vacation was more than worth it ;) I will be posting a chapter a day like normal until this one's complete from here on out. Thanks for all the kind words and I hope you enjoy - Kel

888

"Kar, you sure you're okay?" Frannie asked as she lengthened her stride to catch up with her friend. Only moments after the spirit dissipated, Karen had gotten to her feet and in a blur of motion had begun gathering up what supplies they had. Her purse, the salt, an extra tire iron and Sam's duffle were all quickly gathered up as she called out to her friends to 'catch up'.

"Seriously Karen, why don't you just take a minute, you gotta be shook up," Melanie begged as she reached out and grabbed the bag from the brunette's full hands.

Frannie's frown grew as her friend ignored her completely and stalked out of the store. Even with the shotgun at the ready, Fran couldn't help but feel over exposed as they entered the large vestibule with only the small flame of Karen's bic to guide them. The brunette seemed undecided for a moment as she held up her light toward the bathrooms and then the restaurant. Something unseen to Frannie finally made her opt for the Panhandle.

"Where's she going?" Melanie hissed, as Karen got moving again.

"I have no clue, but I can tell you she's pissed. That's the look her hubby gets when he steps out of line, doesn't bode well for us," Fran replied grimly.

Melanie swore slightly as she juggled the bag and hurried to stay in step. "Yeah, well, as long as she's pissed at something other than us, I'm good."

Frannie elbowed Mel as they neared the opening to the restaurant. "Well, I'm thinking we don't have to worry, she just found a target for all that venom."

Despite the fact that he'd ditched them in favor of his brother, Frannie was happy as hell to spy Dean Winchester at the entrance to the Panhandle.

Karen apparently decided that there was no need to wait until she was face to face with the green eyed man, she started yelling when there was still a good fifteen feet between them. "If this is what you call protection than you're doing one hell of a shitty job. Did you even care that you were leaving us to fend for ourselves when you took off?"

Even in the dim light, Frannie could easily read the anger that suddenly tightened the man's lean frame. "Hey, I told you to stay put lady. Besides you're here ain't ya?" he snapped.

Finally close enough to touch him, Karen came to an abrupt stop and crossed her arms across her chest. "Oh, you're stay in the circle order? That's what was gonna save our lives? You left us in the dark, the circle was breached, and we had no clue."

A hint of something that could have been guilt flitted across Dean's face as he turned to irate Karen. "You're here and you're fine. All's well that end's well."

Melanie, who'd come to a stop beside Frannie actually gasped at Dean's dismissive words. Frannie felt sure it wasn't that the redhead was upset over his reasoning, but simply the fact that he was clearly blowing Karen off. People who knew Karen rarely dared to stand up to her red-hot temper. It was clear though that the hunter had faced enough supernatural creatures to not be bothered by the brunettes tirade.

Frannie watched as Karen narrowed her eyes and dropped her arms, her hands made tight fists and she drew in a deep breath obviously intending to even the score. It was time to intervene, Frannie decided. Trading insults would get them no closer to finding a way out, it would only drive them apart. Plus, in her panic, Frannie was pretty sure Karen had forgotten just why Dean had abandoned them.

"Where's Sam?" she asked as she moved forward. Both Dean and Karen turned on her for a moment, both obviously intending to snap when her words registered.

Dean immediately stepped back, and rubbed a hand across his jaw. It was obvious from his stance that wherever his brother was, things weren't good. Karen, her sense of compassion nearly equal with her temper, became contrite at the reminder.

"Is he okay?" Karen asked, her voice filled with worry.

Again, Dean's hand came up to his jaw to scrub at the scruff there. "Yeah, he's okay for the moment, but…"

The hardened man's words trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder toward the Panhandle.

"But," Melanie whispered softly. "We're going to die here aren't we? I mean this is gonna be like some horror film where the bad guy just picks us off one by one until we're all dead."

"No one's dying, not on my watch," Dean growled as he met Karen's gaze, "right?"

The brunette nodded, her jaw firm as she reached out to put her arm around Mel's shoulder. "We're gonna get out of here, Mel." Here Karen looked squarely at Dean and said, "all of us."

Olive branch offered and accepted, Frannie decided it was time to move the herd. "We shot him, about ten minutes ago, we need to move before he can reappear."

Dean nodded and shot Frannie a lazy smile. "I heard that, you're getting to be a natural."

Frannie firmly quelled the butterflies in her stomach that his smile created and tried to look professional. "I'm not ready to sign up for the job yet, but, I'm okay."

"Good, 'cause I'm gonna need the help. Sam seems to be out for the count," he said as he began to gather up their gear.

"He's not hurt is he?" Melanie asked her voice still quavering.

"Not at the moment," Dean said as he led them back toward the restaurant. The four of them had just reached the opening when the lights flickered and came back on. The harsh light from the fluorescents blinded Frannie for a moment, leaving her to wander into the restaurant blind.

"Hey there, how many?" An unfamiliar but cheerful voice called.

888

Dean let loose a low growl as he tucked his shotgun under his coat and out of sight, he noticed Frannie's was held carefully behind her back. There in front of them was a fifty-something waitress a handful of menus in her arms. Her nametag proclaimed her to be 'Connie', who if he wasn't mistaken was actually the owner of the restaurant. The re-appearance of the echoes was as unwelcome as the lights were welcome.

As the others crowded around him, he glanced toward the drink cooler that up until five minutes ago had held one large Winchester. Instead, it now appeared to be no more than a refrigerator holding an array of colas and sports drinks. Caught with his proverbial pants down, Dean was left speechless by his brother's disappearance.

"Four, thanks," Karen said brightly, her tone easily covering up for his earlier stall.

"Sure thing," Connie answered as she led the way.

She showed them to a booth, only a table behind a young girl and the man that would eventually end up face down and dead. Dean figured it was safe to assume that the pretty young thing that was smiling so fondly across the table from him, must be the girl that dies in the ladies room.

With a grimace, he took the bench that offered the best view of the cooler and sat gingerly. Frannie slid in beside him pressing close to his side. It was obvious that she was more than freaked by the return of the echoes. Karen and Melanie slid in opposite him, their expressions conveying their unease.

"Now, what can I get you folks to drink?" Connie asked once they were seated.

Dean's glance slid toward the refrigerator. "We'll take a couple of those Gatorade's?" he said as nodded toward the upright box.

At his order, a slim foot that most likely belonged to Karen slammed into his shin. Biting back a curse, Dean ignored her hiss and smiled easily at the waitress. For her part she didn't seem to notice the three slightly twitchy woman that surrounded him. With a smile, she excused herself and headed for the cooler.

There must have been something about Dean's intent expression that warned the trio to be quiet, either that or their self-preservation skills had finally kicked in because if one of them had said one word while he was watching Connie, he would have hog-tied the offender. As the waitress at last reached the cooler, she easily pulled it open and selected a couple bottles of the lime-green drink and let the door drift shut once more.

"Dean?" Melanie whispered.

He just didn't get it. The cooler was there sure enough but from the clear vantage point he had there was nothing that suggested that Sam was trapped inside or ever had been. "Damn, Sam," Dean whispered as he accepted the bottles from the older woman with a faint smile and a nod.

"You all ready to order?"

Perhaps sensing his mood, Frannie spoke up, "Can you give us a moment?"

With a nod and a smile, Connie drifted away, intent on the couple that sat nearby. As soon as she was far enough away from the table, Frannie leaned forward and asked, "What's wrong? You look like you saw a ghost."

As she registered her own words, she grimaced and waved her hand. "You know what I meant. What's wrong and where the hell is Sam?"

Dean leaned forward and kept his voice low, "He's in the cooler."

Karen sat back and stared at him for a moment. "The cooler?" she questioned clearly not understanding.

The elder Winchester jabbed one finger toward the drink display and mouthed the words, 'cooler'.

"Uh, Dean?" Frannie said as she eased slightly away from him. "There's nothing but drinks in there."

Dean let loose a snort and gestured toward the room they were in. "Do you think all this is real? It's an allusion, brought on by Smith in order to lure in people like you three. None of this is real. Trust me, Sam's wedged tight in that cooler, and I need to figure out a way to get him out before he runs out of air, or Smith decides he's better off dead."

Melanie's glasses only emphasized her wide-open stare. "He's gonna run out of air? We have to do something," she blurted.

"Well, thanks for that Melanie 'cause I was planning on just leaving him and living out the rest of my life as an only child," Dean scoffed as he rolled his eyes at the red-head's obvious statement.

Mel sat back with a huff and crossed her arms. Giving Dean a nasty glare she snapped, "You know, Sam really is much nicer."

Before Dean could retaliate, Karen spoke up, "Cool it, Mel. What do you need us to do?"

Short of admitting he had no clue, Dean couldn't think of anything to say. His brother was good and trapped and the only recourse he was left with was to wait out Smith. Sooner rather than later, the ghost was going to lose his foothold on the truck stop. Problem was, patience wasn't something the elder Winchester excelled at.

Just then, there was the sound of glass clinking and a soft female cry. He glanced over his shoulder to find the couple behind him were frantically sopping up a slowly spreading puddle of water. Apparently, the young guy had tipped the glass, most of it's contents had landed on the table, but a portion had also soaked the young woman across from him. She held her shirt in one hand as she mumbled obscenities.

"No worries, honey," Connie said as she moved toward the table a rag held in one hand. "You just take yourself off to the bathroom. You can use one of the hand dryers to get yourself dry."

The young woman mumbled thanks as Connie and the young man continued to sop up the water. Dean's gaze tracked the woman as she slipped out of the restaurant, clearly heading to the bathrooms.

"She's going to die," Karen said on a sigh as she followed the woman's progress.

"Well, technically they're all going to die," Dean said with a grimace as he turned his gaze toward the three woman that sat in his booth. "Okay so we can assume that she's first."

"How do you figure?" Mel asked.

"She would have yelled out if she'd seen Earl dead, and everyone in here is still alive," Frannie replied.

Dean nodded in agreement happy with the woman's succinct explanation. "Right, so he follows her into the bathroom, kills her. Then he offs Earl in the entry and heads in here. I'm thinking he probably walked up behind the kid," Dean said gesturing toward the young man that sat in the now dry booth. "He killed him, then probably cornered Connie behind the counter, by the time Carl realized what was going on, he didn't stand a chance."

The shudder that wracked Frannie's slim frame made it clear his words had upset her, her voice however was smooth and calm as she asked, "Why not have Mel do her ghost whisperer imitation before he has a chance to get to them?"

It was an idea that Dean was toying with himself. The reason he hesitated though was he was worried about Smith's retaliation. Right now Sam was suffering from little more than some cramped muscles, however, if he removed Smith's victims who knew what the spirit would do.

"Sam," Karen whispered, her eyes darting toward where the cooler sat.

"Shit," Frannie breathed as she moved closer to Dean, her arm brushing his.

"Out, Mel," Karen said as she suddenly shoved against Melanie, pushing the redhead out of the booth. She gained her feet, her gaze roaming between the entrance to the panhandle and the fridge.

"Honey, did you need somethin'?" Connie asked as the waitress noticed what she thought was Karen's indecision.

Without turning to face the older woman, Karen pointed toward the entrance. "There's a man named Paul Smith out there and he's dangerous. He's going to kill you all, if you don't do something to stop him."

Dean was pretty sure the shock on Connie's face was mirrored on his own. However, it took only seconds for him to realize just where the brunette was going. "She's right, you're all in danger."

"Carl!" Connie called as she slowly began backing away from Karen.

"Smooth," hissed Melanie as she took a step toward the waitress, her hands extended in supplication. "I know it's hard to believe but it's the truth. You're all in danger."

"Frannie, cover Sam. Keep that bastard away from him," Dean ordered as he fanned the girl out of his way and out of the booth.

The determined nod Frannie sent him reassured him somewhat. He had a feeling Smith was in for a real workout if he dared to try the green-eyed blond. "Got it," she said as she took off for the cooler.

Dean watched as she placed herself in front of it, her shotgun plainly in sight. The sawed-off didn't only draw his attention.

"She has a gun," Connie said faintly, as she took yet another step backward.

Dean grimaced and nodded as he brought his own weapon out from under the cover of the table. "She has a gun to protect you all, you're not in any danger from any of us," he tried to reassure her.

Just then a huge man emerged from the back of the restaurant and stopped behind the long white counter. The neat white apron that was stretched around his wide girth and the snowy white cap that sat perched on his head proclaimed him to be Carl, the cook and owner of the Panhandle. "Connie, hon, heard you call out. What's wron—" Carl's words broke off as he took in Frannie standing guard over the soft drink cooler, and Dean covering the entrance to the restaurant with a shotgun in hand.

"They were just sitting in one of the booths, Carl and then—"

The giant who had to have an inch or so on Sammy, not to mention a good hundred pounds, seemed to straighten up even more. His thick forearms bulged as he gripped the spatula in his hand and interrupted his wife, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my place with a gun?"

As he sized up the man, he found himself suddenly grateful that echoes were unable to affect reality. There were many things Dean would rather do than go toe to toe with Carl. "I told your wife, we're here to help."

"Man, you picked the wrong place to rob," Carl said his words rolling right over Dean's. "Everyone who rolls through this place knows that."

"We're here to help," Melanie pleaded as she stepped in front of Dean.

Carl tossed his spatula to the floor and ignored the redhead's plea. Instead, he leaned slightly to the side and brought out a shotgun all his own. He pointed the nose toward Melanie and Dean and ordered, "Put the guns down."

He felt more than saw Karen take a step forward, he had no doubt that the woman's only thought was for Melanie's safety. With one hand, he gestured her back and tensed, Carl looked all too ready to defend what was his.

"Dean, I think I hear him coming," Frannie whispered frantically.

The situation had gotten well out of control, Dean needed to get the reins back in hand, and he needed to do it quickly. In one swift motion he grabbed Melanie and pulled her behind him. "Listen, just let me explain—"

Dean's words were cut off by the sound of a shotgun as the blast hit him solid in the chest, knocking him to the ground and sending him skidding into one of the tables.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

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Sam was confused to say the very least. He'd prepared himself to be left alone and then only a moment after his brother had walked out, the lights had kicked on and Sam watched Dean and the three woman come into the restaurant. The thick glass door did nothing to impede his vision, it only muffled sound, he had no problem watching the surprise on his brother's face as he was greeted by a host of echoes. If Sam wasn't in a box only slightly smaller than a coffin he would have laughed at Dean's discomfort. As it was, he was seriously concerned with running out of air and laughing would use it up all the faster.

With a slight groan, Sam shifted a bit, cursing his long limbs. As every inch of him was pressed up against one of the walls of the interior, he couldn't help the feeling of claustrophobia that was swiftly growing. Again and again he reassured himself that there was enough air to last him until sunrise, he just needed to relax and ignore the confines of the space. Easier said than done.

His shoulders brushed the sides of the cooler, his head was bent forward to allow for his height, his forehead pressed against the glass, and his legs were tucked up underneath him. All in all, he was as bent as a pretzel and his muscles were beginning to protest his position. That coupled with the fact that he was beginning to get hot, his body raising the temperature of the shut off refrigerator enough that sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead.

What he needed was a diversion from his predicament. He needed to take his mind off his worries, if only to focus it on a different set of fears. Lucky for Sam, as always his brother was providing him with the perfect distraction. Dean and the ladies had taken a seat at one of the booths at the waitress' urging. Sam could see the tension that held his brother in its grip and the way the older man's eyes kept darting toward Sam's prison. He tried several times to signal to him, that he was okay, but Sam was now pretty sure that by the lights of the restaurant his brother was unable to see him.

His first clue had been when he'd seen the waitress, one who wore the nametag Connie, approach the cooler and mime opening the door. What surprised Sam even more was when the woman finally turned from the refrigerator she'd held a couple of bottles of sports drink in her hands. Sam could only assume that Smith was strong enough to alter the reality of the building and everything in it. It would explain why after ten years of abandonment the place looked as if it were still in service. The spirit was so strong he was even able to change aspects of the outside world for one night a year. The off-ramp that hadn't existed before and the Panhandle were signs of that.

Sam found himself uncomfortably wondering just what they'd glimpse when Smith lost his grip on the place. At least fourteen people that they knew of had gone missing in the Panhandle that left fourteen rotting corpses to be found. Torching the place was quickly beginning to seem like a viable idea to the young hunter. Sam watched as his brother became more and more irritated, he could only imagine just what the ladies were saying that had his brother all worked up. Then again, Dean's upset might have something to do with the echoes that filled the restaurant. Dean was never comfortable when faced with spirits, at least not unless he had a shotgun pointed at them.

A flurry of activity caught Sam's attention as the woman in the booth in front of Dean suddenly jumped up brushing at her shirt. She was obviously the woman that dies in the bathroom, he watched with a grimace as she spoke a few words with Carla then passed right by Sam as she left the room in search of the bathroom. Pretty and young, the poor girl had deserved more than having her throat slit in a truck stop in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately there was little left to be done about it except to destroy Smith. Unable to help himself, Sam pounded a fist against the glass. He wanted out now. The urge to be part of Smith's demise was overwhelming, yet here he was trapped and unable to get free.

With a growl, Sam watched as Karen suddenly shoved Melanie out of the booth, and slid out herself. The beautiful woman then spoke to Connie, her expression roving between the cooler where Sam sat, and the door to the panhandle. Whatever she said obviously upset the waitress as the woman took a couple steps away and watched with trepidations as both Frannie and Dean slid out of their bench. Frannie moved to stand directly in front of Sam, her shotgun held at the ready. Sam couldn't help but pound once more on the glass hoping to catch the slim blonde's attention. She, however, gave no sign of having heard him.

At first, she blocked his view keeping him from being able to see his brother or the restaurant. Unable to do much about it he strained his ears, listening for any clue as to what was happening. When she at last shifted enough for him to see what was going on, he couldn't believe his own eyes. There stood Melanie and Dean pinned in place by a monster of a man that held tight to a shotgun. The man was becoming more and more agitated despite whatever his brother was saying or maybe because of it.

"No," Sam shouted to his brother. "Stop now, Dean," he warned he could see just how ready and willing the giant was to take out the threat before him. Seeing as that threat was a combination of Melanie and his brother, Sam began to pound on the glass in front of him in earnest.

Just then Dean made his move, grabbing Melanie and whipping her out of range of the gun. The giant, garbed as a cook, took exception to the movement and fired. Sam's scream of rage tore at his throat as he watched his brother go flying backward only to hit the ground with a thump. No longer able to stop himself, Sam began to throw himself at his prison door. Over and over again he pounded against the door with the faint hope that he could shatter the glass.

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So many things happened in the instant before the gun went off that Karen had trouble processing it all. She'd heard Frannie's whispered remark about the killer heading their way and was torn between helping Fran defend Sam or getting a hold of Melanie, who'd somehow gotten between Dean and the cook.

Then before she could actually make a decision, she heard a slight scuff behind her. With trepidation she turned around only to meet Smith's dark gaze. The killer stood in the doorway, his attention divided between her, Melanie and Dean. Of the echoes-he seemed to care not a whit. He obviously understood the living posed the most danger to his existence.

Her attention was still focused on Smith, when she heard Dean try to plead with Carl and his shotgun. It was the sound of the weapon's blast that wrenched her gaze from the killer. She saw Dean fall to the ground and skid across the floor of the restaurant his momentum checked only by a table that was knocked over when he slammed into it.

Fear held her tight in its grip for a moment as she stared at the fallen man. Despite the fact that the room had turned into a free for all, he lay still as a stone facedown on the tile floor. It was the first time since she'd met him that she'd seen him so still. Heart in her throat, she ignored all the noise and confusion and made her way to his side.

With a plea to the heavens Karen dropped to her knees and reached one shaking hand out to gently touch his cheek. At her touch, Dean's eyes popped open wide and he drew in a harsh gasping breath. Relief flowed through her, causing her hands to shake uncontrollably, as she patted down the hunters broad chest looking for any sign of injury.

"'m okay," the green-eyed man whispered as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

"Just stay put," Karen ordered as she searched for blood.

Dean swiped ineffectually at her hands and growled, "I'm fine, no ammo."

Karen had his shirt halfway unbuttoned and was ghosting her hands over Dean's bare chest looking for injuries before his words finally sunk in. "No bullets? You're okay?"

"Yeah, really I'm okay," Dean assured her as he pushed her hands away once more.

As Dean began to level himself up, Karen drew a deep breath and struggled to compose herself. "You're okay," she whispered again as she helped him sit up.

"Karen," Dean said, his bright green gaze meeting hers levelly, "I'm okay."

His reassurance, offered so calmly, went a long way to quelling the panicked feeling that was beginning to drown her. With one last pat to his chest she nodded and held out her arm to help him to his feet. Once on their feet, they turned to take in the nightmare that the panhandle had become. Frannie stood steadfast in front of the cooler, her shotgun tracking the killer who was standing face to face with Carl. The cook was barking threats at the killer, and Smith was smiling grandly, seemingly unworried about anything the echo might do to him.

Melanie had gathered up Connie and the young man and was huddled in a corner the tire iron grasped in her hand and the echoes tucked in behind her. Karen could have killed her for that one. If anything the woman should have been using the echoes as cover not the other way around. With a huff of breath she started after Mel determined to make her see reason only to be stopped by a strong grip on her arm.

"Leave her, you'll only draw attention to her," Dean said as he eased his hold. "Frannie's covering her."

Karen flashed one more glance toward Melanie before she nodded. "Fine, where's your gun?"

Dean grimaced and nodded toward the line of booths to his left. "It slid under the last booth."

Though the handsome man was speaking to her, he never took his eyes off the killer and the cook. Both of who were at the moment sizing each other up. Carl seemed somewhat hesitant to fire his weapon and Karen couldn't help but wonder why. It wasn't until Dean answered that she realized that she'd asked the question out loud.

"He realizes something's wrong, he might even remember some of what's been going on."

Just then Carl spoke, "What have you done, Smith? What have you done?" The owner of the Panhandles voice cracked on the last words and his gun wavered just a bit.

"Done? Why you know what I've done, Carl," the killer said.

Karen shuddered at the sound of the killer's voice. There was no remorse in his tone and even worse he seemed to be taking pleasure in Carl's confusion. "I killed you all, and I enjoyed it. It was…" the killer gasped, "…fun. More fun than I ever could have wished, and I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you, Carl. See, I screwed up when I killed Connie first, I should have done you before you got the chance to alert the police. Then I would have gotten away clear and free. Instead they caught me at the entrance, the bastards filled me with lead."

Unable to help herself, Karen edged closer to Dean needing to feel the warmth of his large body in the face of such a cold, inhumane confession. Smith tossed his knife in the air and deftly caught it, his sneering smile and twinkling eyes making it clear that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"You killed us," Carl suddenly raged as Smith's words seemed to finally sink in. "I came out of the kitchen and my dear sweet Connie was in a heap on the floor. I didn't even think I just hit the speed dial for 911 and dropped to my knees next to her. I felt the last of her warmth seep out of her body just before the tip of your blade touched my throat."

A glance toward Connie showed that the older woman was holding her throat her eyes so wide it looked as if they would pop out of her skull. Pity overwhelmed Karen as she focused once more on Carl. He was now advancing on Smith, the shotgun seemingly forgotten in his hand. His intent was clear, he planned on ripping the grinning maniac to shreds with his bare hands, despite the knife that the shorter man held.

Smith for his part seemed not at all worried as he egged the cook on by crooking his finger in a come and get it gesture. The killer seemed to feel that the echo could do him no real harm. Karen for her part wondered if it were true, dead or not she had no interest in seeing Carl killed while standing only feet away from him.

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Melanie when faced with the killer had herded the echoes into a corner and had taken up a position in front of them. Though in her mind she understood that she was in more physical danger than they were, she just couldn't help but respond to their helplessness. So there she stood, tire iron in hand as she watched Carl and Smith circle each other. Poor Connie was sobbing, her face buried in her apron. The woman hadn't taken her own death plus the death of her husband very well. In fact, Mel wasn't sure why they hadn't passed on already. After all, everyone that had faced their own death so far had moved on without pause. The feeling of failure didn't sit well with her.

Not that there was much to be done about it especially while Smith was taunting poor Carl. His every word seemed to bring a gasp and a wail from Connie. Dean at least had gained his feet that was something to take comfort from. Karen had gone darting after the poor man after he'd slid the length of the room and had helped him to his feet. It was obvious that though he'd gotten banged up he was going to be okay. Melanie's gaze darted toward Frannie and the drink cooler behind her.

It seemed as if the younger hunter might not fair quite as well. The idea of Sam's long lean body shut up inside that small box made Melanie feel claustrophobic, she could only imagine the damage it was doing to him. Problem was, how to counter-act Smith's power before Sam ran out of air. As she pondered the question she saw Carl make his move. The huge man darted forward, his intent obviously to wrap his hands around the killer's throat. Smith was too fast.

With a heart wrenching cry from Connie, Smith's knife was thrust deep into Carl's chest. The echo made not a sound as his knees buckled the knife still caught deep in his chest. Before Carl could hit the ground, he disappeared and the knife clattered to the ground. Connie now shoved hard against Melanie's shoulder trying to force her way past the redhead, causing Mel to stumble forward into Smith's line of sight. The killer's cold as the grave grin sent shivers up and down Mel's spine and caused her to shrink back in disgust.

"Melanie, move!" Dean shouted as he threw himself at Smith.

So mesmerized by Smith's feral grin was she that she hadn't even realized the killer had moved to within feet of her. Throat too dry to cry out, Melanie simply squeezed her eyes shut tight and lunged left. Though she refused to look, she would later swear that she felt the blade graze the skin of her neck as she fell to the ground.

As she moved, Dean collided with the smaller man a dull thud issuing from the clash of their bodies. Melanie groaned as she rolled onto her back to watch the two men grappling with each other only a few feet away. At first, Dean with his larger side obviously had the upper hand, he'd forced Smith backward until the man's back was up against a table. Dean then drew back his fist and landed Smith a blow right across his cheek. The spirit didn't even flinch he just accepted the blow and then lashed out with his foot.

The kick hit Dean hard across the thigh causing the hunter to stager back a few steps. Back and forth the two went, each vying to come out on top and neither gaining ground. They were simply too evenly matched, Dean needed help and he needed it quickly if any of them were going to come out of this alive.

It was then Melanie spied her tire iron. It had spun across the floor when she'd moved and had ended up nearly at Frannie's feet, only inches away from Sam's prison. A glance toward Karen showed that the other woman held her weapon in the air and was waiting for the chance to join the fray. Mel knew if her plan was going to work, it would have to be sooner rather than later. She gained her feet awkwardly but steadied once she was up. With another glance toward the fighting men, she darted toward the cooler.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Karen gripped the cross-shaped tire iron and watched the fury that was being unleashed in front of her. She'd never seen anything like it. Dean moved with a grace and beauty that was worthy of a dancer as he darted in and out, hitting the killer with blows to rival any boxing champion. At first, he'd clearly had the upper hand and Karen had gone so far as to relax slightly. All Dean needed to do was to distance himself a bit from Smith, and Frannie would be able to get a clear shot.

Problem was, Smith apparently realized this as well, and he seemed twice as determined to stay within arms reach of the taller man at every moment. That left Frannie wringing her hands, figuratively, and Dean getting the crap beat out of him. Though he was holding his own, Karen had no doubt it was temporary, not even he would be able to ignore the beating he was taking forever.

Left with little choice and only one real hope, Karen drew back the weapon she held and moved closer to the fight. So far, Smith had been too intent on staying close to Dean, to bother with the knife that had dropped to the ground after Carl's disappearance. All that however changed in a blink as Smith suddenly ducked one of Dean's fists and dropped to the ground. In a flash, the blade was once again in his hand and he was stabbing the air where Dean's head had been only seconds ago.

Karen inched nearer. Seeing Smith armed only increased her sense of urgency. Though it wasn't too obvious yet, she'd noticed that Dean was starting to lag slightly. It was bound to happen as he battled the spirit, but the sight of it was scary as hell. Twice Smith came so close, Karen was sure he'd drawn blood from the sandy-haired hunter.

Sensing an opening almost more than seeing one, Karen readied herself for attack. Just as she was about to swing, Melanie darted past her, drawing the brunette's attention. Karen pulled the blow and instead turned to watch her friend slide to a stop before the cooler where Sam was no doubt slowly suffocating.

Just then, a sharp pain cut through Karen's arm drawing her attention once more to the fight that was being waged only steps from her. Smith loomed above her, his knife already dripping with her blood as he seized hold of her arm that still gripped the tire-iron. Dean lay silent and still on the floor just behind the killer. "Let me go," Karen screamed as Smith ground the bones in her wrist.

The agony of her wrist far outweighed the pain of the cut in her forearm that was still dripping blood onto the grey tile floor. Unable to maintain her grip, Karen dropped the weapon as he continued to squeeze. The pain was unlike any she'd felt before, her stomach rolled in protest and she was suddenly afraid she was going to be sick.

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Dean saw the moment he lost the fight in one moment of clarity. It all came down to the fact that he ducked when he should have dodged. Smith took advantage of the elder Winchester's mistake and hit him for all he was worth. The blow dropped the hunter to the ground, stunning him long enough for Smith to make a move on Karen. Lying prone on the floor, Dean gasped for breath as he watched helplessly while the killer's knife slipped down Karen's forearm.

Karen didn't even seem to notice the cut, she did however let out a blood chilling yell as Smith grabbed her wrist, trying to force her to drop the tire iron she held tight in her hands. It was the sound of her weapon hitting the floor that gave Dean the strength to push himself up and onto his knees.

Intent on going after the spirit once more, his attention was instead captured by a loud crash. With a curse he turned, expecting to see the worse, and found Melanie attacking the glass door of the cooler with the tire iron she held in her hands. It took only a minute for Dean to realize just what the redhead was thinking, he couldn't help but be impressed. If iron could be used against Smith, it stood to reason that it was one of the few substances that could break the spirit's hold on Sam's prison.

Determined to do his part, Dean groaned as he gained his feet. Smith's attention was now fully focused on Melanie, so much so his grip on Karen had slackened slightly. The brunette was doing her dead-level best to take advantage of the lapse. Over and over again she kicked at the killer, landing solid blows to Smiths legs as she yanked at the hand that was manacled around her wrist.

Dean was very nearly on top of them both when Karen managed to kick out at the tire iron that had landed near her feet. The weapon slid toward Dean coming to rest near his boots just as Smith yanked on Karen's trapped arm, pulling her with him.

Karen had no recourse but to follow, though she did it under protest the whole way. Dean had to admit she took stubborn to a whole new level as she forced Smith to drag her kicking and screaming toward where Maggie still worked to free Sam. Frannie, in the meantime, had her weapon raised and was tracking the killer as if just waiting for the opportunity to blow him away. Dean could clearly see Fran's expression and he had no doubt the woman would fire if she got the chance.

Problem was she needed an opportunity. Grabbing up Karen's discarded weapon, Dean lunged toward the killer intent on stopping him. In the moment just before he was about to swing the iron at Smith, the spirit flickered and disappeared. The lights then sputtered once and went out. The darkness enveloped them all for a moment making movement nearly impossible. As he tried to get his bearings, he heard the sound of shattering glass.

"Sam!" he shouted needing to hear that his brother was okay. The lights had come back on, but the overhead fluorescents were dim and sputtered slightly

"I'm 'k," Sam called out at last, sounding a bit breathless.

Sam's reassurance was enough to make Dean weak with relief. Forcing his knees to work, Dean headed straight for his brother. As he wound his way around the restaurant, it became obvious that Smith was losing power on the Panhandle. The weak lighting wasn't the only thing that had changed. The restaurant was nearly unrecognizable from its earlier condition, instead, it finally resembled the abandoned building it actually was.

The flowered wallpaper was hanging from the walls in strips and the tile floor was covered in years worth of debris. The booths had rotted away in places, and water damage was evident just about everywhere. A stink permeated the place reminding Dean of a crypt that had been sealed for decades. Seeing this version of the Panhandle and comparing it to how it looked only ten minutes ago only served to emphasize the tragedy that had taken place.

Dean's reflection on the restaurant's condition was abruptly cut off when his emerald gaze met his brother's warm hazel eyes. A slight smile tugged at the corner's of his lips as he called out to Fran, "Keep your eyes open." Then, at last, he was at his brother's side.

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Sam drew in a deep breath concentrating on little more than filling his lungs with the oxygen rich air that whooshed in through the ragged hole that was once the door. The fresh air was more than a little welcome, the inside of the cooler had begun to feel stale and he'd begun to seriously consider the worst. Even as he had watched Melanie attack the glass door with the tire iron, he'd been certain that she was going to fail. So certain, in fact, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin when metal met door with a loud twang.

After that first fissure was created the spider web of cracks had grown with each blow. The redhead, showing stamina that Sam couldn't help but find impressive, just kept hitting over and over again with no regard to what was going on around her. Sam had silently cheered her on, at least he had until the door shattered inward. Glass shards had hit the younger Winchester hard, though luckily only a few drew blood. He really just couldn't find it in himself to care, as he took that first breath. As Melanie carefully worked to widen the opening, the lights flickered off and then back on throwing the restaurant into sharp relief once more.

"It's gonna be okay, Sam," Melanie panted as she cleared the last of the glass. Gesturing to Frannie, both woman reached into the box offering help to the younger man.

Sam couldn't feel his feet, in fact, the numbness had climbed up his thighs as well. He stared at the women who so earnestly waited to help him gain his feet and very nearly rolled his eyes. "Where's Dean?" he muttered as he stretched his arms out carefully.

"Sam!" Dean suddenly shouted as if in answer to Sam's question.

"Come on, Sam, we'll help you out," Frannie said, as she tugged a bit on the younger Winchester trying to get him moving.

"I'm 'k," he called out to his brother as he struggled to get out and not put too much weight on the woman.

"It's okay, Sam, we gotcha," Melanie reassured as she dragged his arm over her shoulder.

It wasn't easy, and certainly not pretty, but before long the two woman were helping him to stretch out on the dirty tile floor. Sam couldn't help but groan as the blood returned to his lower limbs.

The sound of a footfall on the dirt encrusted floor had Sam looking up to meet his brother's worried gaze. Offering the older man a slight smile, Sam felt a bit more tension drain out of his frame. Dean looked none the worse for wear despite being flung across the room, Sam held up his hand silently asking for Dean's help.

His confinement in the refrigerator had left every muscle in his body aching. The numbness that had been his blessing earlier had swiftly become his curse once he was free to move. The pain was fading fast, but he had little doubt that without his brother's help he'd have next to no chance of gaining his feet.

Standing was the only thing that Sam could think of at the moment. To be on his feet, his long limbs stretched to the maximum, was all that mattered. Smith, the echoes, even the girls could wait just long enough for him to gain back his composure. Having his big brother by his side went a long way to doing just that. Breathing deep and concentrating on little more than forcing away the pain caused by his confinement, Sam worked on easing the tension that gripped his brother's solid frame.

"I'm okay, Dean, really."

Dean nodded and remained by Sam's side, his grip tight on the younger Winchester's arm. "'Course you are."

The two of them shared a moment more of silence before his brother seemed to deem Sam fit enough to stand on his own. Though the elder hunter dropped his grip, he stayed put close, his shoulder pressed against Sam's own. Sam took comfort in the touch. Ever since the ripe old age of fourteen, when Sam had decided he was too old for hugs, Dean had taken to offering physical comfort in just such a way. Whether the contact was knee to knee as they talked, or sitting side by side just barely touching, it offered Sam a reassurance that little else did.

As Dean's overly tense frame began to relax inch by inch, Sam couldn't help but think he wasn't the only one that took comfort in the touch. With a groan, he straightened even more and nodded. "I'm good, Dean. What the hell happened?"

At his words, his brother rolled his shoulders once, his expression changing in a blink from worried to angry. "Son of a bitch had Karen and was gonna put an end to Melanie's little operation freedom idea, when he just blanked out."

Sam's gaze was drawn to where the three women stood shoulder to shoulder. Karen held the middle spot, her right arm cradled in Frannie's hands, and the blonde seemed to be fussing about something. Dried blood stained the front of Karen's tee-shirt and she looked unusually pale. "What happened to Karen?" Sam asked nodding toward the trio.

"Smith," Dean spat the word as he moved to approach the ladies.

Sam couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his brother held his normally long stride in check in deference to Sam's slightly slower pace. He wasn't quite ready to relinquish Dean's presence at his side. The feeling that Smith's disappearance was only a harbinger to something worse wouldn't leave him. With a sigh, Sam pushed himself to go faster, it was past time for them to re-group.

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"Aw, crap I think I'm gonna barf," Frannie whispered as she took Karen's mangled arm in her own and pressed a scrap of cloth to her forearm.

Karen drew in a swift breath as a bolt of nausea threatened to overtake her.

Fran swiftly apologized, "Sorry. I need to stop the bleeding."

Karen swallowed thickly and replied, "Naw, wasn't that, just don't bring up…you know…again."

"Nice choice of words," Melanie said with a nervous giggle.

Frannie shot Melanie a hard glance as Karen went even paler. "You need to sit down?" she questioned as the brunette swayed slightly.

"'m good. Just in need of a change of topic," Karen implored, blood she could handle, the pain in her arm was manageable, but even the idea of vomiting would be enough to lay her low.

"Well, I'll be honest, I have no clue how bad you're hurt, but, your wrist looks like it was caught in a vise," Frannie said as she carefully examined the long, cut on her friends arm, and her bruised wrist.

"Thanks, Doctor Quinn, for the diagnosis," Dean said as he came to a halt in front of Karen. He held out one strong hand and waited for Karen to make a decision. A single glance at the compassion she could read in his eyes was enough to make Karen turn her hand over to the hard man before her.

His large, strong hands were calloused but never rough as he glided them over Karen's battered wrist. She couldn't help but gasp as he manipulated the bones beneath causing the dull, aching, throb to become a sharp, screaming pain.

"Sorry," he muttered as he released her wrist and lifted up the makeshift pad that Frannie had covered the cut with. "Sam, find me the first aid kit," Dean called out as he examined the wound that ran from the crease in her arm to disappear in the bruising at her wrist.

As Sam returned to his side with the first aid kit in hand, the younger Winchester asked, "You going to have to stitch it?"

Karen opened her eyes wide and glanced down at the wound she'd so far avoided looking at. Dean's head blocked most of her view as he was bent over her arm, but she saw enough to leave her fighting back the bile once more.

At the younger man's words, Melanie gave a little hiccup and cleared her throat. "Stitch it? She needs a doctor. You can't just stitch the flaps of skin back together like it's a rip in a pair of jeans."

"Actually, he can," Sam countered as his shaggy brown head bent to examine the wound. "Dean's got a hell of a steady hand. She'd be better off with him than some country bumpkin doctor. I doubt she'd end up with much of a scar."

"But what about infection, I mean you can't counter something like that here. God knows that knife he's carrying around probably has every type of infection known to man, she'll end up with a wound full of pus and they'll have to re-open it to drain—"

"Whoa now, I gotcha," Dean murmured as Karen's legs buckled.

Frannie moved to help hold her friend steady, only to be shoved out of the way as Dean tucked one arm under Karen's knees and another behind her shoulders. With an ease that bore witness to just how much muscle was hidden under his coat, he lifted the woozy girl up and moved toward one of the booths.

"Sam," Dean barked.

Karen forced back the black spots that danced at the edge of her vision as she sagged against Dean's rock-hard chest. In the back of her mind she understood that Melanie was trying to defend her, but all she could focus one was the woman's choice of wording. Words like pus, and drain were the last things she wanted to hear as she struggled mightily to not throw-up on Dean.

Dean seemed to understand her struggle. "Listen, Kar, if you're gonna toss your dinner then give me a bit of warning. I learned long ago that no woman's worth getting puked on."

Dean's words actually shocked a weak chuckle out of Karen and she relaxed just a fraction more. "Trust me, I'm doing everything I can to keep from ruining your jacket," she whispered as she kept her eyes tightly closed.

"Deep breaths," he replied, "just take deep breaths."

Karen decided that was some of the best advice she'd gotten all day. It didn't hurt that the deep breaths pulled in the delicious scent of the handsome man whose chest her cheek rested against. Dean smelled of leather, with a slight hint of aftershave and a touch of what she thought was gunpowder thrown in for good measure. As she fought to keep the contents of her stomach in place she made a mental note to do a little aftershave shopping for her hubby. She vaguely wondered if she could try one of those create-a-perfumes to try and mimic the scent.

It was the jolt of being set down on a table top that brought her out of her musings and reminded her of just how bad her arm hurt. Frannie was by her side in moments holding on to her good hand and making soothing noises. Karen sought to reassure her friend, "I'm okay, Fran, honest. As long as Melanie stops trying to defend me I'll be just fine."

"No worries there," Frannie replied as she gestured toward Melanie.

Melanie and Sam stood toe to toe, it looked as if they were ready to square off, but Karen had the feeling trading punches wasn't what either one was thinking of at this moment. They both leaned toward each other, the space between their bodies negligible, as they stared hard at one another.

"Now, he decides to take my advice," Dean muttered.

"Melanie," Karen snapped as she watched the redhead lean up on her toes just a bit.

"Sam," Dean barked at the same time reminding the lanky youth that they had other priorities at the moment.

Both Sam and Melanie jumped a mile, they're guilty faces flushing slightly as they studiously moved away from each other. Sam glanced down at the first aid kit he still held in his hands and flushed even more and muttered, "Coming."

Melanie also seemed to realize she was slacking on the job as she hurried to Karen's side. "You okay, Karen?"

Karen exchanged a long glance with Frannie, both of them grinning in amusement as she finally answered, "Apparently I'm not doing as well as you, but I'll live."

Melanie grinned slightly and tossed a wink toward Sam. "He is just absolutely yummy."

Frannie sighed a tiny bit and gave Dean a casual once over. "Yup, yummy just about sums it up."

Karen was about to agree when a sharp tug on her arm caused her to cry out, "Ow."

"Sorry," Dean muttered as he set about cleaning out the cut. "I'm just gonna get you cleaned up and then I think I'll glue it shut. It shouldn't take more than that. You'll barely have a scar."

No longer able to push back the pain, Karen bit her lip and worked on keeping her cries to a minimum.

**Author Notes:** Okay just one more chapter to go. I'll post it tomorrow. Thanks to those reading and reviewing, I'm glad you've enjoyed - Kel


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"You don't think he's gone do you?" Frannie questioned Dean as the man began to slowly wind an ace bandage around Karen's wrist.

Dean didn't even bother to glance up as he adjusted the tension on the wrap. "He's not gone."

Frannie wasn't sure she wanted to know what the handsome man's reasoning was, but the choice was taken from her when Dean gestured toward the weakly glowing lights.

"He may not be up to full strength, but he's still running the show. The lights are his work, and I keep catching flickers of the echoes. He's here, and I have a feeling he's just gathering strength for one last showdown before sun-up."

Unable to subdue her shudder, Frannie stepped closer to Dean. For all his words suggested they were still in danger, she couldn't help but be impressed of his cool handling of Karen's injury. It was obvious the man was more than capable, and he worked with a scary efficiency that suggested he'd done this many times before.

"There you go," Dean said at last as he began gathering up supplies to put back in the kit.

Fran watched as Karen carefully moved her wrist and replied, "It's actually not that bad."

Dean just nodded and moved away from the table. Turning to his brother he asked, "So what're you thinking, Sammy. Should we try the doors again?"

Sam glanced about the room and furrowed his brow. "I don't know, I'm thinking we should hang tight. Hole up here, the idea of crossing the vestibule…" Sam's voice trailed off as he scanned the restaurant once more.

Though Frannie wasn't certain just what Sam was feeling she couldn't help but agree with the hunter. The idea of crossing that wide-open space with little to no coverage and only the spirit's light to guide them left her feeling afraid. Not that feeling afraid was anything new, she'd been scared to death for hours and had become almost numb to the emotion.

"So we just wait and see," Melanie asked as she shifted slightly, her arms wrapped tight around her middle. Frannie watched as Sam unconsciously leaned toward her friend. Mel's tall frame relaxed slightly and she took a small step sideways toward the younger man.

Fran swallowed her snort and cast her glance toward Karen. Karen's nod toward the redhead and the taller hunter made it clear she'd noticed the silent dance as well. Frannie could only hope that Melanie was keeping things in perspective, barring death, Dean and Sam would be leaving in the morning and there was little any of them could do to stop them.

"So, we wait," Fran said as she watched Dean re-load both shotguns. She noticed he kept one for himself and handed the other off to Sam. As Frannie tested her grip on the tire iron she couldn't help but wish she had the sawed-off instead. In her mind the gun offered a safety that no other weapon could match, at least with the shotgun she could stand back ten or fifteen feet from her target. The iron on the other hand forced a person to move in close. Close was bad, of that Frannie didn't doubt.

Weapon at the ready, Dean nodded and joked, "Welcome to the exciting world of hunting. Sammy and I do a good bit of waiting."

Frannie eased a step closer as she watched Karen settle into a nearby booth.

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Karen forced her eyes open once more as she sat wedged into a booth, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out along the seat. Melanie and Frannie occupied the seat across from her and both seemed busy taking in the sights. With a wry grin, Karen watched as Melanie sighed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand, her gaze fixed on Sam. It was obvious her friend had fallen for the hazel-eyed hunter. Karen could understand the attraction, though Dean came off as the more dangerous of the two, Sam had his own appeal. He seemed a mixture of both competence and kindness that was more than attractive.

A glance at Frannie proved that the green-eyed blonde was more than enjoying watching Dean patrol the Panhandle. Karen had to admit between the two it was Dean that had captured her own interest. He had an appeal that was greater than his looks, not that he wasn't drop-dead gorgeous it was simply that he had the whole package. Looks, charm, and danger all wrapped up in beautiful green eyes, full lips and high cheekbones was a combination no woman would refuse.

Karen rubbed gently at her wrist with a grimace. The pain had subsided somewhat after Dean had immobilized it, but it was still aching in time with her heartbeat. She vaguely wondered if it were time yet for another dose of aspirin, the elder hunter had mentioned that he had more to spare if the pain became too great.

As she sat, a feeling of unease began to grow within her. Another scan of the restaurant showed nothing out of the ordinary. Well, if the ordinary consisted of a rundown restaurant and two handsome men on the prowl with shotguns. The tension that gripped her began to increase, making Karen sit up a bit straighter.

Out of habit, Karen glanced at her watch to check the time only to remember that it had been destroyed in her encounter with Smith. With a grimace, she turned toward Melanie intent on asking her friend the time. "Mel, what time is it? Earth to, Mel," Karen said as she snapped her fingers in front of the redhead. "Come on, Melanie, get your head out of the clouds for a minute,"

Out of patience, Karen flicked Mel on the arm eliciting a cry from the other woman. "Ow, what the hell, Karen? Why'd you flick me?"

"I asked if you knew what time it is?" Karen said with a sigh.

"It's five fifteen, the sun should rise around five forty-five, or at least that's what Sam said." Melanie couldn't help the sigh as she returned her gaze back to the tall hunter.

"Ouch," she cried out a moment later as she turned to face Karen once more. "You flicked me again," she accused as she rubbed at the sore spot on her arm.

Karen rolled her eyes and snapped, "Yeah, well if you'd stop mooning for just one minute."

"I'm not mooning," Melanie replied, "I'm simply enjoying the view."

Frannie's sigh was audible as she added, "And what a view it is."

It wasn't hard to see that Fran was enjoying the sight of Dean pacing the confines of the restaurant. "See that, why don't you flick Fran, she's gawking too."

"I'm not gawking, I'm keeping watch," Fran said with a sniff as she continued to follow Dean's movements.

Melanie laughed aloud and replied, "Yeah, well unless Smith's gonna suddenly appear in front of Dean's ass I find it hard to believe you're gonna find him."

"Like your one to talk, Smith could have carried us all off and as long as Sam keeps flicking his hair out of his eyes you would have never noticed," Fran replied with a huff.

"You know for someone that's all too ready to follow De—"

"Ouch," Frannie and Melanie yelped at the same time as they both rubbed sore spots.

Karen waited calmly as both woman complained loudly. At last, as their cries began to die down, she said, "Something's up. Do you feel it, Smith's up to something."

"He's running out of time," Fran offered with a shudder as she kept her gaze resolutely locked on Dean. "I noticed it awhile ago."

Melanie offered up her opinion, "Won't be much longer now. This place is like dry tinder, just waiting for a match to strike."

Her friend's confirmation helped Karen feel a bit better, at least the feeling of impending doom that was swiftly overtaking her wasn't just a figment of her imagination. The idea that the other two woman understood just how serious the situation was helped to calm her own fears. Determined to remain calm, Karen forced her attention to the one thing guaranteed to keep her mind occupied.

"He really is just beautiful," she offered as she watched Dean do an about face and continue with his pacing. He seemed completely unaware that he'd captured their attention.

"You can say that again," Frannie said with a slight sigh. "He's just so manly."

Karen watched as the brother's conferred in low voices with one another. She found herself grateful that their murmurs were too low to be heard. She suddenly felt as if she'd rather not know just exactly what was going on. "They're mantiful," she declared.

With a snort, Melanie asked, "Mantiful?"

"Yeah, you know, the perfect mixture of beautiful and manliness. Mantiful."

"Huh," Frannie replied as she studied the men once more. "Mantiful indeed."

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"Quarter of, Dean," Sam muttered before his brother could ask the question. Dean's head nod was the only indication that he'd even heard his little brother, but Sam had little doubt he had. For the last forty minutes, the elder Winchester had grown tenser and tenser, he was obviously expecting a full-fledged attack at any moment, and with every passing moment, Sam became even more certain he was right. Smith was going to strike and strike hard any moment now. If his training wasn't enough to make him aware of this fact, then the tension in the room would definitely be a clue.

The three women sat at a table in between him and his brother, speaking softly. They seemed surprisingly unaware of the pressure that was filling the room. He had to give them credit, they were holding up way better then he'd have expected. His brother was determined to get the ladies out alive, and Sam had to admit there was little he wanted more. He'd become fond of the trio over the last couple of hours and he was determined to return them to their previously scheduled lives none the worse for wear.

Sam's musings were interrupted when he noticed a flicker of motion outside the corner of his eye. Swiveling on silent feet, he watched as the echoes suddenly appeared. "Dean," Sam warned.

"I see 'em," Dean replied his eyes darting toward where the couple suddenly appeared in the booth, with Connie hovering near them a small notepad in her hand.

Sam found himself wondering just how long it would take Connie to notice the state of her restaurant. Though the echoes were back, the room hadn't changed one bit. The lighting was still weak and flickered intermittedly and the Panhandle was a wreck, only the echoes looked strong. It was pretty obvious that Smith was saving energy for something, and Sam had little doubt that whatever it was wouldn't be good.

"Hey, Mel, you feel up to ghost whispering one last time?" Dean called out as he kept his gaze trained on his surroundings.

"Dean, I don't think—" Sam began only to break off as Smith suddenly appeared behind his brother, his knife glinting in the light of the fluorescents.

Luckily, the older Winchester sensed the being before it could get him in a choke-hold. With a cry of rage, Dean sidestepped and twisted, bringing his shotgun up and around at the same time. The blast of the gun echoed through the room, causing the echoes to scream and duck in fear.

Dean's shot missed the mark, but was enough to make the killer re-think his position. Smith blinked out for the moment, leaving Sam and the others to watch and wait.

"Shit the bastard's playin' with us," Dean breathed as he placed his back toward Sam's and motioned the ladies up and out of the booth they'd been sitting in.

The ladies fairly flew at Dean, nearly knocking the weary hunter over as they jockeyed for position. Sam had little doubt that they understood just how much damage Smith could inflict despite his weakened state. The fact that they were practically climbing his big brother in unison proved that. "Sam," Dean shouted in desperation as he tried to shake free.

Sam edged closer to the woman and shouted, "He can't shoot if you're hanging on his arm."

At his words, the trio seemed to gain some perspective. As one, the ladies jumped back from Dean and seemed to regain their composure somewhat. Satisfied that his brother wasn't going to be overrun, Sam turned his attention back to the nightmare at hand. Connie and the couple in the booth had been shocked into silence by either the appearance/disappearance of Smith, or possibly the sight of Dean and his shotgun. Most likely it was a combination of both that had the three of them huddled together at the side of the room.

Sam had only a moment to really even process they were there before Smith suddenly appeared just behind Connie with his ever present knife at the ready. The killer shot the brother's a look of glee before he promptly stepped forward and put the knife to the older woman's throat. Without thought, Sam took a step forward intent on saving the echo. Fortunately, for him, his brother reached out to stop him before he could do more than take a step.

Unfortunately, no one was close enough to Melanie to stop the redhead from doing the same thing. Sam stood helplessly as she rushed the spirit with nothing more than a scream of rage and a tire iron held tight in her hand. The cold calculating look on Smith's face made it clear that he'd expected someone to rush to the echo's side. His high-pitched giggle made it clear he would be more than happy with Melanie's headlong rush.

Unable to bear the thought of the pretty woman at the mercy of Smith, Sam yanked his shoulder out of his brother's grasp and darted after her. Afraid that he was going to be too late, sure that if he was, Melanie would die, Sam dove forward and just barely managed to latch onto her arm.

Smith shoved Connie away hard enough to make the waitress stumble and then made a grab for Melanie. Despite Sam's efforts the older man's hand closed around Melanie's wrist. There they stood locked in a silent battle of tug a war. Smith's knife was poised only inches from Melanie, and Sam's shotgun was aimed at the killer. Neither one was willing to back down so there they remained.

"Sam," Melanie called out her voice trembling nearly as hard as the hand that Sam gripped tightly.

Through clenched teeth, Sam reassured her, "I won't let go."

At his words, Melanie wrenched her gaze from the killer and turned her head to face Sam. "I trust you," she whispered as she resolutely ignored the spirit that clutched her wrist.

Sam felt her words of trust settle on him like the weight of the world. They couldn't save everyone that was hunting lesson number one, and yet he refused to consider for even a moment that he wouldn't be worthy of Melanie's faith. There were enough he hadn't managed to save, he wouldn't allow her to be added to the list.

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"I really wouldn't do that if I were you," Smith grunted as he motioned with his knife, the silver blade shone bright even in the dim light.

Dean sat back on his heels and let loose a low curse. He had been working on circling around the killer and Sam, but Smith had noticed him before he could get far. His brother, brave though he might be was also an idiot. He'd placed himself between Dean and the killer, making it impossible for the elder Winchester to help.

Not, Dean amended, as if his kid brother had much of a choice. Not when the ghost whisperer manages to go and get herself ghost napped. "Let her go, Smith. You know your time is nearly up and you're not getting' an encore. We know where you're buried and we plan on ending you today."

"End me?" Smith's eyes widened slightly as he glanced from Sam to Dean and back again. "So, you think you can stop me? Better men than you have tried and failed."

"You mean like Big Carl?" Frannie asked as she suddenly stepped beside Dean. "He tried to stop you right?"

Unsure of what Fran's reasoning was, Dean let her ramble nonetheless. They had little more than ten minutes to kill and if the blonde could hold Smith's attention then all the better.

"Carl, Carl was weak. He thought he was superman, invincible. Well, I showed him, didn't I," Smith gloated. "And do you know what the best part is?" the killer said as he drew Melanie toward him. The redhead cried out in pain as Smith tightened his grip. "The best part is I get to do it over and over again every year."

Dean tensed and glanced toward Frannie and noticed she seemed to be paying no attention to the killer or her captured friend. Instead, her gaze was focused on Connie who'd taken refuge at the booth with the other two echoes. Carl's wife no longer looked scared though, and she was no longer cowering. If Dean had to put a name to her emotion, he'd have to pick pissed.

"Pretty smart," he murmured to Fran as he watched the waitress' expression grow more and more grim. The woman stood slightly behind Smith and directly out of his line of sight. "So, every year you get your rocks off by killing Carl and whoever else you can manage to find."

Smith laughed, his expression twisted as he gloated, "It's like leading pigs to slaughter."

Dean slid a step closer judging the distance between himself and Sam in a single glance. He could only hope his brother's hold on Melanie was strong. With a nod to Frannie, Dean readied himself.

"They trusted you," Frannie spat as she edged backward a bit. "They thought you were a friend and you killed them all."

As Fran's last words echoed through the room, Dean made his move. He launched himself toward Sam, intent on hitting his brother hard and high. Sam must have seen the move coming as he bent his knees slightly before the shorter hunter connected with him. At the same moment, Connie released a cry of rage as she jumped at the killer, her hands curved into claws, she wrapped herself around his back and began tearing at his face.

The killer thrown off by the fierce attack released Melanie just as Sam was knocked over. The redhead was drawn tight into Sam's embrace as the handsome hunter worked to shield her body from brunt of the fall. For a moment chaos reigned as Smith screamed in pain and terror while Connie continued to tear at him.

Caught in a tangle of limbs, Dean could barely see what was going on. It was only as a blinding white light engulfed both Connie and the killer that he realized the echo had at last destroyed the man that had taken her life years ago. As the light at last faded the interior lights of the Panhandle winked out as well leaving the room alight with the soft glow of early morning sunshine. The elder Winchester stared in amazement as he noted that the couple was gone as well. Whatever hold Smith had over them seemingly gone.

With a groan, Dean worked his leg free from under Sam and gained his feet. A glance toward Karen and Frannie showed the woman standing and staring transfixed at the place they'd last seen the two spirits with twin expressions of amazement. Sam and Melanie were still lying entwined on the floor and seemed in no rush to untangle and the last two echoes were crouched inside the booth cowering in fear.

Satisfied with a job well done, Dean bent over and picked up his shotgun. With a grin, he cradled the gun in his arm and turned toward the exit. "Sammy, roll off your girl and get moving. Daylights wasting and I'm starving," Dean called out as he exited the restaurant.

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Karen stood by the door and took a breath, her injured hand was pressed against her stomach and her left rested on the door handle. Though Dean and Sam seemed confident that they could leave, she still had her doubts. After all they had been through in the past couple of hours she couldn't seem to shake off her dream-like state.

"Just push already, did I not mention starving here," Dean groaned as Karen continued to hesitate.

The flash of irritation she felt toward him, helped her to push away her fears. "Here goes everything," she muttered as she pushed against the glass.

"Oh, thank friggin' god," Frannie breathed as she crowded Karen from behind, urging the brunette out the door.

Just like that Karen, Frannie and Melanie tumbled from the building and into the early morning sunshine. With one hand covering her eyes from the sudden brightness, Karen took in the parking lot, amazed to see that it looked nothing like it had before. Gone was the perfect black macadam and bright yellow parking lines. Instead, the surface of the lot was broken and cracked. Large sections were completely gone and there were weeds poking through and the pumps no longer stood in neat lines, instead they were leaning haphazardly.

As she stood in the parking lot, swaying slightly from the past hours stress, she couldn't help but turn back to face the building that had housed her nightmare. She watched as Sam and Dean made their way out, the early morning light outlining the two handsome hunters. Despite the lack of sleep and the blood and grime that coated their clothing, Karen couldn't help but sigh a little. Though she could have done without the Ghostbusting-101 lesson she had to admit that it hadn't been hard spending time in such…

"Mantiful," Frannie said with a sigh. "They're just mantiful."

Karen glanced toward her friend and exchanged equal grins of appreciation. With a wink, Karen then nudged her friend and nodded toward Melanie. The redhead had moved to stand square in front of Sam and was chatting animatedly with the lanky hunter. Sam's head was dipped down as he leaned toward Mel.

"So, ladies, just where were you headed before you got way-laid by the Panhandle?"

Karen and Frannie turned as one to face Dean, his roguish grin encouraging twin smiles of their own. "We were headed to upstate New York for the weekend to enjoy a bit of female bonding."

Dean's smile grew even brighter as he asked, "You mean a sleepover? Like nighties and pillow fights?"

Her grin every bit as bright as Dean's, Frannie leaned in and gave the hunter the once over. "Yup, exactly like that. Hell, we might even get a bit tipsy."

With a groan, Dean's knees buckled for a moment as he clasped his hands together in supplication and called out, "Please, Sam."

"Car, Dean. The ladies are married, and you know perfectly well there's not gonna be any pillow fights," Sam called out as he and Melanie joined the rest of them.

Dean took a deep breath and nodded at last. "Yeah, I guess. Besides, we're gonna have to dig up old Smith just to be sure."

"You don't think he's gone for good?" Melanie asked her arm wrapped tight around Sam's arm.

"For good. Most likely, but we weren't raised to guess, we'll make certain," Dean assured them in a purely professional tone.

A shiver of unease ran down Karen's back as she heard the determination in his words. Despite the picture he showed to the world, Dean was nothing if not serious about his job. "Well, its time we were moving on. I'm certain there's a whole herd of people looking for us by now."

Careful not to jostle her bad arm, Karen held out her left to Dean and smiled. "It was an adventure."

Dean's grin seemed genuine as his large hand engulfed hers. "I have to say it was. You guys did okay in there."

Hand tingling from the contact, Karen smothered a sigh and nodded as she stepped back to allow Frannie to say goodbye. Determined not to get all emotional, Karen turned her back on the scene and moved toward her van. Despite all that happened she had a family that was probably worried sick about her. She was half-way to the van, when a catcall from Melanie caught her attention. For one heart stopping minute she thought that Smith was back, at least until she heard Sam's chortle.

She glanced over her shoulder only to find Frannie, both hands gripping Dean's face as she planted a long, slow, kiss on him. Somewhat surprised by the blonde's enthusiasm, Karen waited for the moment to end. When by her calculation two minutes had gone by and they were still going strong, she nodded to Melanie and made a move on her usually clear-headed friend.

Not bothering to try and call Fran off the handsome man, she just indicated that Melanie should grab one arm, while she herself grabbed the other. With a grin both women pulled and Frannie separated from Dean a somewhat dazzled expression on her face. With a wave to the men, the trio moved arm in arm toward the bright red mini-van and the reality of their lives.

"Guh," Melanie sighed as she waited for Frannie to settle into the back seat. "I'm so jealous. I should have done the same damn thing to Sam."

"What's stopping you?" Frannie said with a smug smile. "The way I see it, this night never happened and that includes my little…um…moment."

"You mean your little suck-face fest," Karen said with a grin.

"Yup. I figure what happens at the truck stop, stays at the truck stop."

At Frannie's words, Melanie turned to stare at Sam for a moment. "You know what, you're right. What the hell," the redhead mumbled as she broke into a jog, her destination clearly the shaggy-haired hunter that was even now dropping his duffle bag into the trunk of the sleek black car.

Karen hadn't even realize she'd sighed until Frannie nudged her in the side. "Go on, you know you want to," Frannie said as she gave a surprisingly girlish giggle and added "and trust me you want to."

A glance at the older hunter had Karen laughing out loud. As his brother was having the stuffing kissed out of him, Dean leaned against the fender of the car, his arms folded, and one eyebrow lifted in challenge. Unable to resist the bait Karen began to move toward him with a grin to match his own.

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"You ready little brother?" Dean called as he watched the red van pull away and rattle its way over the broken parking lot.

"All set," Sam replied as he ducked his head to climb into the passenger side of the big black car. He could only hope that the dim interior helped to hide the flush that he had little doubt still graced his features. The Indian whoop Dean had let loose earlier when Melanie had finally released him had been embarrassing enough, Sam didn't need anymore ribbing. Then again, the fact that his brother had proceeded to allow both Frannie and Karen their turns to say 'goodbye' had to be worth some ribbing.

One glance at the broad grin splitting his older brother's handsome features as he slid into the front seat dashed all of Sam's hopes of revenge. It was obvious his brother wasn't at all shamed by sharing his favors earlier. "How about we find ourselves the nearest own, get a bite to eat and find Smith's grave?"

"Can you make it somewhere guaranteed not to have pie," Sam joked as he rolled down the window, allowing the wind to sweep past him. His time spent locked in the cooler had him appreciating the warm spring day all the more.

Dean picked up the pair of sunglasses that rested on the dash, slipped them on and shot Sam a grin. "I think I can manage that."

Sam leaned his head back, as the last of the tension drained from his lanky body. "Good, wake me when we get somewhere."

"You got it, bro," Dean answered as he merged onto the highway. "You know those were three hot ladies, and that Melanie," Dean let out a low whistle as he reached for the tape deck box that sat between him and Sam, "she was completely into that whole 'geek' vibe you got going."

Sam snorted and opened one eye to find his brother leering at him. "You know she wanted a séance spell. I mean as if last night wasn't enough excitement."

Immediately Dean's grin turned to a frown as he questioned his brother, "Are you serious? It'll be a friggin' miracle if those three make it in one piece to New York."

"Aw, she was sweet, just a little over enthusiastic."

"Sam," Dean growled, "tell me you did not give that girl a spell."

Sam's chuckle was low and full-throated. "Well I did give her a spell, but it wasn't to summon spirits."

Dean's laugh filled the car as he thumped his brother on the chest. "That's my boy, what'd you give her."

"Remember the spell Bobby used the summer we spent with him?" Sam knew he wouldn't need to elaborate. There was no way Dean would ever forget the incantation that had left them both nursing a rash that covered over three-quarters of their bodies. The older man had been fed up with their bickering and had decided to teach them both a lesson.

"Ha!" Dean exclaimed his chortle filling the car. With a grin, he settled on a cassette and plugged it into the tape deck.

As the familiar strains of AC/DC began to drift out of the speakers, Sam caught a glimpse of bright red heading down the highway in front of him. Dean also seemed to have caught sight as he upped his speed and cranked the radio a bit more.

As they approached the car, Sam saw the driver's side window go down and a piece of something white was tossed out the opening. Certain it was the sheet he'd given Melanie, Sam blessed Karen for her good sense. She'd just saved her friends, and herself, from a week of itching.

In no time at all, they'd drawn up to the side of the van, Karen pushing the red car for all it was worth. As Frannie and Melanie crowded Karen, each waving and laughing, Sam couldn't help but grin himself. With one last wave, Dean hit the accelerator pushing the big engine to go even faster.

The Impala responded like the well-oiled machine she was, and as her throaty growl filled the car, Sam felt himself thrust back into the seat. They leapt ahead of the mini-van and quickly left the other vehicle behind. At last, Dean eased off the gas slowing the car to a respectable seventy miles an hour.

"What was that all about," Sam asked as he wriggled in his seat until he was comfortable.

"A man's got his pride, Sam. I couldn't have that mini-van thinking it could keep up with my girl."

Sam snorted and closed his eyes, a shaft of sunlight warming him despite the open window. "Naw, I guess we couldn't have that," Sam agreed sleepily as he drifted off at last.

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"The girls are never going to believe this one," Karen said as she merged back onto the highway and began to gain speed.

"I brought proof," Melanie said with a grin as she waved a piece of paper back and forth.

"Do we even want to know what that is?" Frannie asked as she sat forward, leaning in between the front seats.

"Tell me it's Sam's phone number," Karen said, with a grin. "'Cause that would be worth more than any so called 'proof' of ghosts."

"Nope, it's even better," Well Melanie quickly amended, "well, maybe not better, but as good at least. It's a séance ritual, I'm talking the real deal here. We can give it a go tonight at Barb's place."

At Melanie's words, Karen gazed into the rear-view mirror and found Frannie's panicked gaze. Always quick to learn an important lesson, Karen shook her head. Frannie's quick nod was enough of a confirmation for the dark-haired beauty. "Can I see it?" she questioned Melanie as she held her hand out for the paper.

"Of course, I double checked with Sam, it's supposed to be really powerful," Melanie said as she handed the paper over.

"Cool," Karen replied as she scanned the early morning traffic for any sign of a police cruiser. Not seeing one, she took the pro-offered paper and made as if to glance at it. Instead of actually reading it, she hit the down button for the driver's side window. In a flash, she tossed the notebook paper out the window, saying a silent goodbye to Sam's firm script and their last proof that the Winchesters were anything more than an urban legend.

"Shit," Mel exclaimed as she caught sight of her hard won paper flying out the window. "Damn, Karen, why'd you do that? That was our proof."

"Let it go, Melanie, we don't need proof, we lived it," Frannie said from the backseat as she settled in for the long trip ahead.

"I'm sorry, Mel, but I've had enough excitement to last me a lifetime. We're better off just pretending that none of this ever happened," Karen said as she upped her speed.

"Yup, like I said earlier, what happened at the truck stop, stays at the truck stop," Frannie said just before she stifled a huge yawn.

"I guess," Mel grumbled as she gazed out her window, a slight pout marring her pretty features.

Just then, Karen heard a low growling sound. A glance in her rear-view offered proof that wasn't her imagination. There, slung low, black paint shining in the morning light was the Impala. Slick as could be, it roared up on the left of the mini-van easily keeping pace with the bright red vehicle.

The windows were rolled down despite the speed the car was traveling and the familiar beat of A/C D/C's 'Hell's Bell's' made its way into Karen's car. A glance showed, Dean, sunglasses in place, driving, his lazy grin making her heart skip a beat as he wiggled two fingers in a wave. Sam's face shone with good humor and he tossed a lazy wave toward the car full of women.

Unable to resist, Karen hit the gas increasing her speed as both Frannie and Mel leaned over to wave out the still open window. At last, with a grin from Dean and a throaty growl from the classic car, the Impala took off, making it seem as if the van was standing still rather than doing the far side of eighty.

As the Chevy disappeared from sight, Karen at last slowed, a trace of sadness overtaking her at the idea that she would never see the brothers again.

Frannie seemed to have the same idea as she settled back into her seat with one last heartfelt sigh. "God, they were hot."

Karen couldn't help but agree as she headed on down the highway her eyes peeled for the big black car.

The End


End file.
